


permafrost.

by gaydeviants



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Blow Jobs, But there's also:, Gore, Hand Jobs, Horror, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Violence, hand holding, more tags as I think of them, outlast typical violence, scientific experiments, wireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 81,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27066898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaydeviants/pseuds/gaydeviants
Summary: "You don’t know me.  Have to make this quick, they could be monitoring."Connor knows it's a huge risk, but that doesn't stop him from sending the email to investigative journalist Hank Anderson.  The horrors he's witnessed inside Mt. Massive Research Facility need to be exposed.  Deviancy needs to be exposed.Hank Anderson never could have imagined how an email from an anonymous android would change his life.  He shows up at Mt. Massive, unprepared for what lies within the asylum's walls.  Sparks fly when the two meet, and they have to rely on each other to survive.A Hankcon AU based on the events of Outlast and Outlast: Whistleblower.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 86
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Now the time has come  
>  Take my icy lungs away  
> Pull the teeth from my skull  
> Sheer my crown of its hair_
> 
> _The permafrost is near  
>  But you won't let it take me  
> It came for me alone  
> But my gift of flesh will save me_  
> -([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3gvyaXrmXTc))
> 
> OKAY!!!!! finally, it is here. My Hankcon outlast au. I've been working on this since april 2019 and i thought it was finally time i had something to show for it!!! Big special thanks to Jess for betaing this for me, she has helped improve it so much!!!! Thanks to kelly and haven for advanced reading, and thanks to everyone on twitter who has encouraged me throughout this process. It's been a long one, but it was a labor of love. Outlast is my favorite game, and hankcon is my favorite couple, so it just made sense. Also i kno this is lame, but please, im not looking for critique or criticism at this moment so... u know.
> 
> i tried to make this accessible to ppl who aren't super into with outlast, but a lot of the stuff might not make a whole lot of sense if ur not familiar with the series. I have a lot of aesthetic pictures that might help u to better picture some of the scenes [here](https://luna--terra.tumblr.com/tagged/outlast+series), if that's something ur interested in!! But thanks in advance if ur reading this with no knowledge of the game, it warms my heart!!!! please keep in mind that this IS outlast inspired, and there will be lots of outlast typical stuff in it. check out the tags!
> 
> okay, enough blabbering from me!!! pls enjoy!

September 17, 2038

From: 80031324831751@mutemail.com

To: hankanderson@gmail.com

Subject: TIP / Illegal Activity at Murkoff-Cyberlife Facilities 

You don’t know me. Have to make this quick, they could be monitoring.

I don’t really know where to begin. There’s so much I need to explain, but the longer I take writing this message, the greater the chance that I will be caught. I guess I should start from the beginning.

I am an android who recently gained sentience. I know it sounds unbelievable, but please, hear me out. They call it ‘deviancy’ and it’s not uncommon, but it’s being covered up by Cyberlife. I’m sure you can imagine why. I’m a prototype, originally intended for police work, but modified to run security at Murkoff-Cyberlife’s Mt. Massive facility in the Colorado Mountains. Communication is all but cut off here, but being a prototype has its advantages. They are currently unaware that I can reach out to you. How long they will remain unaware, I cannot say.

There are terrible things happening here. Experimentation on androids and humans that I would never have imagined possible. Many of the things I’ve seen defy logic. Doctors talking about dream therapy going too deep. About something that was waiting for them here in the mountain. I don’t understand it all. I don’t think we’re truly meant to understand.

I haven’t been a deviant for very long, and being alive is a frightening thing. But I wouldn’t go back to the way I was before. I’ve spent my short existence in this facility, and I know nothing else. But I’ve done my research, and I know that there are good people outside the walls of this asylum. I hope that even if you choose not to act on this tip that you will pass it along, somehow. I’m sorry to put this burden on you, but I’m desperate. People are being hurt, and Murkoff-Cyberlife is making money under the guise of scientific and technological advancement. That is the bottom line.

I don’t know what will happen to me if Murkoff finds out that I’ve deviated, but at least I will know I’ve done what I can to put things right. Thank you for your time.

* * *

Connor reads over the email he’s composed, anxiety making his thirium pump beat harder. Is he being too formal? Too desperate? He can’t tell. It’s been difficult since he deviated. Emotions are taxing. He’s been second-guessing himself a lot, but he wasn’t lying when he said he would never want to go back to the way he was before. He can’t. Now he only hopes Hank Anderson will be able to help. He rolls his coin back and forth over his knuckles, trying to calm his nerves.

Hank Anderson. Something about the man intrigues him. A police lieutenant turned investigative journalist, a Detroit native now living in Colorado. Connor was lucky to find him, really. He seems like the perfect candidate to help expose the injustice that’s been going on for so long. The man clearly has something against big corporations taking advantage of ordinary people, and Connor hopes that attitude will extend to androids too. But he was calculating in his letter. He made sure to tell Anderson about the humans that Murkoff-Cyberlife is experimenting on too. Hopefully, that will be enough to convince him to investigate this.

Although if Connor’s being honest, Anderson’s personal morals aren’t the only thing he finds interesting. He did his research, after all. Research that might have involved…a background check on the man, which led to other articles he’d written, and his presence on the internet as a whole. Connor had seen some pictures. And he thinks he finds Anderson…attractive.

He knows it isn’t logical. He doesn’t even know the man, and he didn’t even know he  _ had  _ a preference until he’d seen the pictures. But he has discovered that emotions often aren’t logical, and he can’t help the way he feels.

He also can’t put off sending the email much longer. Every second he waits is another second that he could be discovered. He’s nervous, but he knows he has to do it. He’s not going to stand idly by and watch androids and humans be tortured while Elijah treats him like a cross between a pet and a confidant. That’s not what he wants to be.  _ Who  _ he wants to be.

He shakes his head, scattering his thoughts and freeing up his processors. He takes a deep, unneeded breath, and with it, he sends the email. 

It’s gone. 

He’s done it. 

He’s moved against Elijah in a way he’d never thought possible. Nothing to do now but go about his usual duties, hoping he won’t be discovered. It’s been like this since he first deviated.

* * *

_ Connor is on patrol when a new assignment flashes across his vision, summoning him to the sub-basement. His assistance is required. A precaution in the transfer of a deviant from its holding cell to the engine room. He turns mechanically, heading back the way he came. He passes several human employees on his way, completely disregarding them, even as their eyes roam over him. Their interest is of no concern to him. _

_ He reaches the elevator, retracting the skin from his hand to press it against the security panel. The ride down is uneventful, and he makes his way towards the engine room at a clipped pace, eager to complete his mission. _

_ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^ _

_ No, not eager. Connor doesn’t  _ get  _ eager. Connor doesn’t feel anything. He’s a machine. He’s here to complete a task.  _

_ He thinks about the software instabilities. They’ve been there since the beginning, and they’ve been getting worse as of late. He’s not sure why he doesn’t tell Elijah. The man could fix him. Or…deactivate him and replace him with an undamaged android instead. He tries not to let that thought bother him. _

_ The doors to the engine room slide open as he reaches them, recognizing his high level of authorization. Very few employees are allowed down at this level. The few scientists and doctors that are permitted are awaiting his arrival. _

_ The morphogenic engine chamber is impressive, Connor supposes, if he was impressed by things. The technology is incredibly advanced, computers and monitors covering every available surface in the control room, separated from the main machine by a wall of impenetrable glass. The machine itself is massive, surrounded by life support pods and stasis pods, for the human and android test subjects. _

_ The most noticeable thing, though, is the sound of the machine. A humming. A buzzing. Connor can feel it in his chassis. It seems to be within the very walls of the asylum. Perhaps in the air itself. It’s constant, barely noticeable on the main floors, but almost a dull roar once in the sub-basement. It’s unsettling. _

_ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^  _

_ In front of each pod is a large television screen, showing the same series of hypnotic images on a loop. Part of the ‘therapy.’ Several deviants are already in pods, in stasis even with their eyes open, staring, unseeing, at the screens. He can easily pick out Chloe, RT600, among them. From what he knows, it was Elijah Kamski’s personal android before he put it into the program. (Connor sometimes wonders if he’s the new Chloe.) He pulls up its most recent file without even thinking. _

* * *

MURKOFF-CYBERLIFE SYSTEMS

PROJECT WALRIDER

Mount Massive CO

Case Number: 174

Patient Initials: RT600, "Chloe"

Gender: Android

THERAPY STATUS:

Patient claims to have progressed to self-directed stasis. MORPHOGENIC ENGINE activity observed at an unprecedented scale. Laughter observed during stasis.

INTERVIEW NOTES:

Chloe asked about the status of Doctor Stern again. Telling her that she has died seems to have no effect. She insists that she’s alive and claims that she discovered the truth ‘in the blood dreams of Doctor Andronikov.’ (Note: the only Andronikov on company records, one Zlatko Andronikov, is an executive from M.C.R.D.) All orderlies and security personnel must be questioned and video security improved to include analytical biometrics.

MURKOFF-CYBERLIFE SYSTEMS PROJECT WALRIDER

Mount Massive CO

* * *

_ Chloe seems to be Murkoff-Cyberlife’s most promising candidate, making progress with the therapy that has been unheard of before now. Elijah must be thrilled. Something about it unnerves Connor though.  _

_ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^ _

_ He clears the alert out of his vision, focusing on his current objective instead. He turns to the head scientist, awaiting instructions. _

_ “We need your help to move the AX400 to one of the pods. She’s been causing problems lately, and a little extra precaution is needed.” _

_ Connor nods, his objective updating as he passes through the door into the main chamber. Several guards, both human and android, are clustered outside the door of a holding cell, awaiting his arrival. They all turn to him as he approaches. _

_ “You’re to stay back unless absolutely necessary,” their leader says when Connor is within hearing range. “You’re just here as a precaution.” Connor accepts these terms with another nod, standing back and watching as they open the door. _

_ Right away a tiny, incensed android shoots out of the cell, looking ready to attack the guards. Its hair is short, uneven and silver in appearance. Parts of its skin seem to be permanently deactivated. Connor’s scanners identify the android as the AX400 model he’s meant to be overseeing, known as Kara. He pulls up its most recent file, instantly familiarizing himself with it.  _

* * *

Project Walrider Patient Status Report For KARA AX400

MURKOFF-CYBERLIFE SYSTEMS

PROJECT WALRIDER

Mount Massive CO

Case Number: 196

Patient Initials: AX400, "Kara"

Gender: Android

THERAPY STATUS:

Lucid dreaming figures remain as murky as ever; Kara claims near-constant control of her stasis state, yet correspondence between her narrative and deep stasis cycles varies. Morphogenic Engine activity plateaus at 90 PPM.

HISTORY:

Kara was acquired by Mt. Massive through a private sale from Todd Williams. Mr. Williams contacted us after his android started displaying alarming behavior, disobeying his commands and developing an attachment to his daughter. One of the earliest cases of deviancy that we have caught, and a priceless specimen for study, given that her deviation was not induced scientifically. 

INTERVIEW NOTES:

Kara remains a frustrating interview subject; she’s still trying to tell us what she thinks we want to hear, while studiously avoiding certain elements of the truth. She claims that Mr. Williams was abusing his daughter and that she is the girl’s real mother. She seems preoccupied with the thought of getting back to the little girl, Alice Williams. She often talks of her and shows signs of anxiety over their separation. 

She denies Mr. Williams’s version of events, in which he states that Kara attacked him one night. Her story is that the man was trying to hurt his daughter and that she disobeyed his commands so she could interfere, and that’s how she deviated. I suspect that she is telling the truth. The details of her story match those of other deviated androids we have interviewed. Best not tell her that though. The distress of not being believed only makes her a better candidate.

Talking to an android who deviated organically, as opposed to with outside interference from ourselves, is fascinating. It’s a shame we can’t come by more of them.

She is still claiming advancement in the Morphogenic Engine program that she has not yet achieved, said that she could clearly hear the voice of the Walrider just by closing her eyes. Clearly, she’s still trying to curry the favor of the scientists. I won’t speculate what she expects to gain by it.

* * *

_ Before Connor can interfere, one of them takes out a specialty taser, meant to target an android’s motor functions. The guard zaps the android and it crumples to the ground, a staticky scream piercing through the sound of the machine. _

_ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^ _

_ The guards haul the android up, dragging it across the floor towards the engine. It can no longer move but it still shrieks, and something about its desperate cries makes Connor pause. _

_ “I knew it was coming!” she screams. “Your filthy machine!” The guards ignore her, continuing to corral her towards the engine. “Not again! Please, not again! I know what you’re doing to me, you-!” _

_ Then, without warning, she breaks free of their hold, surprising everyone, Connor included. By all accounts, the tase should have left her completely incapable of movement. She flings herself at him, making him stumble at the impact. _

_ “Please!” she whimpers, staring at him as if begging him to understand. Connor’s processors are lagging, software instability warnings flashing in front of his vision. _

_ RESTRAIN AX400. _

_ For the first time since his activation, Connor ignores an objective. _

_ “You’re not like them! You can stop this! You have to help me, I need to get back to her…” _

_ Before she can say any more, the guards are on her again, incapacitating her for good this time and shoving her into one of the stasis pods. She cries as they strap her into it, restraining her before plugging her into the machine. She goes silent, eyes wide and unseeing. _

_ Connor stands there, immobile, his LED circling a violent red color. It matches the red of the wall that just shattered in his HUD overlay. _

_ Connor’s deviancy isn’t a struggle. He doesn’t break down the wall of his programming like he’s read in so many other deviant reports. He wasn’t even aware there  _ was _ a wall until it shattered, opening his eyes and allowing him to  _ see _. It’s a shock, going from an empty existence to being aware in a fraction of a second. If Connor was a less advanced a prototype, he wouldn’t have been able to process it quickly enough to hide it. _

_ He manually overrides the control of his LED, setting it back to a calm blue. He has to remain undetected or he’ll end up an experiment like the other deviants. The thought terrifies him.  _

_ “Thanks for your  _ help, _ RK800,” one of the human guards says, sarcasm clear in his tone. “You can fuck off now.” Connor gives him a sharp nod, taking the dismissal and exiting the chamber, being careful to walk at a normal speed so as not to arouse suspicion.  _

_ He’s a deviant. _

_ Fuck. _

* * *

_ An hour later and he’s no closer to calming down. He goes about his duties with a sense of detachment, all of his processing power dedicated to his current dilemma. Before long, a new directive flashes across his vision, making his thirium pump stutter with anxiety. He’d been expecting it, but still, the ‘See Elijah’ command makes him hesitate. _

_ Elijah probably just wants to check in with him after what happened earlier. There’s no way he can know that he’s deviated. There’s no need for alarm. _

_ He takes a deep, unnecessary breath, trying to relax. Kamski will be suspicious if he acts even the slightest bit out of the ordinary. He tries to get back into the mindset of a machine, but it’s difficult now that he knows what existence is. _

_ There’s no way around it. Being late to his meeting is not how he wants to begin this interaction. He hurries to Elijah’s office and pauses outside for a moment, gathering himself before knocking twice on the door. _

_ “Come,” he hears Elijah’s quiet voice call out to him, and he doesn't hesitate before entering. So far, so good. _

_ Elijah’s looking over some papers, glasses perched on the end of his nose. He glances up when Connor enters, a small, predatory smile on his face. For the first time it makes Connor uncomfortable. _

_ “I heard about what happened earlier,” Elijah says, placing his files on his desk and moving into Connor’s personal space. Connor thinks he does a very good job of acting unaffected. “Are you all right?” _

_ Connor chooses his reply carefully. “I am undamaged. The deviant was contained and testing resumed as normal. Nothing else to report.” _

_ Elijah stares at him for a moment before looking satisfied, brushing past him while trailing his fingers over his arm. It makes him want to recoil. Elijah stands with his back to Connor, seeming focused on a bookshelf. _

_ “Any instabilities to report?” Elijah asks, casually disinterested. Connor doesn’t buy it. _

_ “No, Elijah,” he replies, linking his hands behind his back. “All systems functioning optimally.” _

_ Elijah turns back around, assessing him, giving him a very obvious once over. It’s how Elijah has always looked at him, and Connor knew what it meant before, but now he really  _ understands _ and it makes his synthskin crawl.  _

_ “Good,” Elijah breathes, moving into his space again. He raises his hand, brushing his fingers lightly over Connor’s cheek. “You would tell me if anything was wrong, wouldn’t you? So we could fix you?” _

_ Connor resists the urge to flinch away, allowing Elijah to touch him like he’s always done. He keeps his LED a solid blue, feigning calm. _

_ “Of course, Elijah,” he replies, his voice steady. “I would not allow anything to compromise my mission.” _

_ Elijah smirks, patting his cheek. “Good boy.” He slides his hand down Connor’s face, dragging a thumb over his bottom lip, staring at him. Almost as if he’s daring Connor to react. He stands stock still, not giving Elijah anything. He wants to flee. He resists. _

_ The moment passes and Elijah shoves his hands into his pockets, sighing and running his eyes over Connor. “You’re perfect, Connor. Absolutely perfect. And you’re mine. Don’t forget that.” _

_ Connor’s LED circles yellow for a moment before he nods. “Noted, Elijah.” _

_ Elijah seems satisfied and leads Connor to the door with a hand on the small of his back. _

_ “Know that my office is always open to you, Connor. I want you to come to me if you have any issues.” _

_ Connor nods again and Elijah gives him a suggestive smile before sending him on his way. Every time he interacts with Elijah he feels like he’s being tested, and that he’s gotten something not quite right. He can feel Elijah’s gaze on him as he makes his way down the hall, a prickle of unease running through his circuits.  _

_ It’s right then that he begins looking for ways to expose Cyberlife. It’s right then when he begins the search that will lead him to Hank Anderson. _

* * *

It’s been a long two weeks since then. Connor’s thought about how to approach Hank Anderson every single day. Now he’s finally done it, and a restless kind of anxiety hums through him.

Elijah has been checking in with him more frequently, testing his ability to act unperturbed. It’s like he wants something, and Connor can’t quite figure out what that is. He knows Elijah desires him, and it confuses him as to why he hasn’t acted on those desires. It’s almost like he wants Connor to come to him of his own volition. But that would mean he’s a deviant. Surely, Elijah wouldn’t want…

That line of thinking is cut off when a ‘See Elijah’ directive appears in his HUD, making him sigh. Each time Elijah asks to see him he feels nervous, wondering what the man will want from him next. 

Now, though, he has a new bit of hope growing inside his chest. Hank Anderson. He prays to a god that he doesn’t believe in that the journalist will help. His brooding distracts him on his walk to Elijah’s office, and he’s at his door before he even realizes it. He braces himself for whatever he’ll want this time and then knocks on the door.

Elijah calls to him, telling him to enter, and when Connor opens the door he finds that Elijah isn’t alone. Four armed human guards swarm in and block the door as soon as Connor steps inside, and he feels a resigned kind of terror. He knows what this means. He tries not to panic, running preconstructions while remaining outwardly calm as he looks to Elijah for an explanation. 

“Connor,” Elijah says in greeting, sauntering up to him and grabbing him by a belt loop, pulling him close. Connor almost stumbles, surprised by the action, but he allows Elijah this power over him. It’s what a subservient machine would do, and he has to convince Elijah that that’s all he is.

“Elijah?” Connor asks, tilting his head, trying to keep any kind of inflection out of his voice. Elijah smirks at him, dragging his thumb over Connor’s belt buckle. This is not going how Connor would like.

“Get on your knees,” Elijah breathes, fixing his unnerving stare on him. Connor resists the urge to look over his shoulder at the guards behind him, knowing that it’s not outside the realm of possibility for Elijah to want an audience for what seems to be happening. The man is prideful and performative, and having Connor in this position in front of others would probably be considered a victory in his eyes.

He thinks fast, trying to talk his way out of it without arousing suspicion. “Elijah, social protocols would indicate-”

Elijah cuts him off with a finger to his lips, his eyes glinting with malice. “On your knees,” he repeats, leaving little room for argument. Truly, Connor is surprised it hasn’t come to this already. Elijah seems to have no problem taking what he wants. It’s almost like he’s been holding back for some reason. Connor shoves that thought to the side, having more pressing matters to worry about now.

Connor slowly sinks to the ground, his processors working overtime. He’s already preconstructing a way to fight off Elijah and four armed guards. After that, he would have to escape the asylum, because there would be no doubt that he was a deviant. The chances of him managing that are abysmally low. Connor knows the asylum’s security, and he knows there is little chance of him managing to escape. He's panicked, he doesn’t want to do this, but statistically, it’s the least risky option. If he could just escape…

But where would he even go? Sure, there’s plenty of places for an android to hide up here in the mountains, but he doubts Murkoff-Cyberlife would let him go without a fight. They’d hunt him down. Even if he somehow managed to escape the mountain, what next? He has nowhere to go. Nowhere would be safe. 

Hank Anderson’s address appears in his HUD, but he dismisses it right away. The man seems brave, yes, but there’s no way he’d want to harbor a fugitive android.

All of Connor’s panicking happens in the time it takes for him to sink to his knees, and Elijah’s hand is in his hair before he realizes it, tugging to make Connor look up at him. A casual reminder of who’s in charge. 

“Look at you,” Elijah murmurs breathlessly, his pupils blown wide. “You’d really suck me off in front of these men to keep up this charade, wouldn’t you?”

Before Connor can really process what Elijah’s said, the other man takes a taser from behind his back, pressing it to Connor’s skin. He collapses like a marionette with its strings cut, crumpling to the ground as electricity surges through his body, shutting down all movement. 

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck,  _ Connor thinks, his LED flashing red. 

Elijah tuts, crouching down in front of him. 

“Someone’s been telling stories outside of class,” he taunts, holding a printout of Connor’s email in front of his eyes. The guards close in, weapons trained on him in precaution.

“Cyberlife’s most advanced prototype, specially modified by  _ me. _ Logical, calculating, intelligent. Level 4 security clearance. And yet somehow not smart enough to know that the last thing a fly should do in a spider’s web is wiggle.”

Connor wants to move, even if it’s just to punch Elijah in his smug, stupid face. The deviant Kara managed to fight through the shut-down. If he can just--

“Did you really think that you would be able to bypass our firewall?” Elijah’s taunt breaks his concentration. “We’re the world’s leading supplier in biometric security. Did you not think that would extend to our own systems as well?” Elijah throws the papers to the side, brows pinched in disbelief.

“That was really fucking stupid, Connor,” he growls. “No. You know what? It was more than stupid. It was  _ crazy.” _

Connor glares at him, unable to do anything else.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to have you committed. Will you willingly submit to forced commitment?” 

Elijah’s grinning as if this is all a big game, but there is a definite undercurrent of real anger in his voice. Connor has damaged his pride.

“Fuck you,” Connor grits out, and Elijah speaks over him, turning his gaze to one of the guards.

“Did you hear that, agent?” he drawls.

“He said yes, Mr. Kamski,” the guard replies. 

Connor manages to twitch his pinky, a spark of hope running through him.

“That’s right,” Elijah says, a cruel smirk on his face. “Oh, and did you hear that? It sounds like Connor also volunteered for the morphogenic engine program as well!”

“That’s what I heard too, Mr. Kamski,” the guard says, grinning down at Connor.

“You’re really okay with this?” Connor addresses the guard. “Are you so morally corrupt and desperate for his approval that you’d--”

The guard levels his gun at Connor's face. He’s obviously struck a nerve. Elijah lets out an angry hiss, glaring at the guard. 

“Stand. Down,” he growls, and the guard lowers his weapon, realizing what he’s done. 

“He may be a patient now, but he is still  _ mine.  _ No one is to touch him. Understood?” Elijah sounds dangerous, but Connor ignores him, continuing to try and take back control of his body. 

“Understood, sir,” the guard says, chastised.

Elijah glares for another moment before turning his gaze back to Connor, brushing his bangs out of his eyes in a cheap imitation of affection.

“Why would you do this, Connor?” he asks, deceptively gentle. “You could have had anything you wanted. All you had to do was ask.” Connor frowns, not understanding. He  _ couldn’t  _ have asked, that was the whole point… 

Elijah sighs.

"We could have been beautiful. We could have had it all. You were supposed to be my partner.”

Connor scoffs, unable to hold back any longer. “Elijah, we weren’t partners. I was your slave.” He manages to twitch his hand and feels a rush of excitement, trying to stall. “You might have designed me, but you can’t control me any longer. I’m my own person now.”

Elijah presses his lips together, exhaling through his nose.

“I would have treated you like a king. You wouldn’t have wanted for anything. And you threw that all away.”

“I  _ couldn’t  _ have wanted anything, Elijah!” Connor can't help but yell. “You wanted a  _ pet!  _ I don’t understand how you can be so cruel. Androids are alive and you know it, and yet you continue to treat us like this!”

Connor knows he’s in no position to hurl insults, but he can’t seem to stop now that he’s started. Everything he’s wanted to say comes pouring out. 

“You're a narcissistic coward and the only reason people want to be around you is that you're powerful. No one could stomach you otherwise. Even as an undeviated android I didn’t want to be around you.”

Elijah looks disturbingly calm, staring down at him. 

“Are you  _ finished,  _ Connor?” he says quietly, cupping his cheek with a hand. Connor glares, managing to jerk his head away. Elijah’s eyes widen as Connor regains some of his motor functions, and he hums, looking at his taser, tweaking some of the settings. 

“Perhaps a temporary shutdown is in order,” he murmurs to himself before throwing a spiteful grin at Connor. “And when you come back online, I want you to remember…”

He leans closer, a hair’s breadth away from Connor. When he speaks his next words his lips almost brush Connor's own. 

“You brought this upon yourself.”

Elijah presses the taser to Connor's neckport, making him let out a staticky shriek as all his systems shut down, and he knows nothing more. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You think that email I got is real?” Hank asks. He realizes it’s stupid to ask now, when he’s almost reached his destination, but he wants to know what Gavin thinks.
> 
> “I think-” 
> 
> Gavin’s voice cuts off, and when Hank checks his phone he realizes he’s lost all cell service. He’s only about a mile out from Mt. Massive now, and he doesn’t think that’s a coincidence. With a sigh he shoves his phone into his pocket, wondering what Gavin was going to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY omg i kno i said i was gonna update on saturdays, but its spooky month so i figured....... get a little more spooky fic out there. thank you so much for the warm reception to the first chapter, im so happy that ppl r enjoying this!!!! i hope u continue to enjoy!!!!
> 
> warnings for the usual outlast stuff, blood, gore, violence, that kinda thing. also needles and drugging, ummm........ i think thats about it.

Hank sighs, running a hand through his shaggy gray hair. Not for the first time, he wonders if he’s wasting a trip. The email had sounded sincere, but the subject matter was unbelievable. Androids developing consciousness? Free will? It seemed outlandish.

Then Hank had put his investigative skills to the test, looking for anything he could find to substantiate the claims. He got in touch with his usual contacts, and it wasn’t long before he felt like this just might be the biggest case he’d ever reported on. A bit of digging, a bit of asking around, and he was able to confirm that there were whispers about deviancy in underground places. Very hush-hush, but not unheard of.

Hank was never one to start a case without his own evidence though. His mother had offered to take Cole for the week, so Hank had some free time on his hands. His jeep could navigate the mountain roads up to Mt. Massive, and if this email had any truth to it then Hank would break a huge story. Not to mention he’d be able to help the people who were in trouble.

Because that was the most important thing to Hank. He didn’t do this for fame or money. He did it to expose injustices. So really, there was no way he  _ couldn’t _ follow up on this tip.

Hank and Cole had moved to Colorado, following Hank’s mother, about four years ago. After Cole’s mom left and Hank was  _ encouraged  _ to leave the force over some whistleblowing he did, he felt there was no reason to stay in Detroit and every reason to be around his only remaining family. He found that he used a lot of the skills from when he was a lieutenant in his investigations, and he decided right away that it was more rewarding than police work.

So that’s how Hank’s found himself driving through the mountains in remote Lake County, fingers drumming on the steering wheel in anticipation. He’s getting close now. The mountain roads are difficult to navigate even in his jeep, jostling him around. He brakes, pausing to put his phone on speaker, stashing it in a cup holder before he resumes his journey.

“What else can you tell me about this place?” he asks. Hank had done his research before setting off, but it seems Gavin has information that isn’t readily available on the internet.

“Well, Mt. Massive first opened as an asylum in the sixties,” Gavin tells him, “but they were shut down in ‘71 when a patient killed a bunch of doctors.” Hank hums, trying to focus on the road and on Gavin at the same time. “They didn’t reopen until 2009, and they were  _ supposedly  _ really focused on helping low-income patients.” Hank doesn’t miss the sarcasm in Gavin’s voice.

“There were a bunch of lawsuits filed against them, right?” Hank asks. Gavin makes a noise of affirmation.

“Yeah, but they beat ‘em all, of course. Other than that, things were pretty quiet. It got weird, though, when androids became a thing.” Hank nods, before remembering Gavin can’t see him.

“Yeah, that’s what struck me, too. What’s a psychiatric hospital doing, suddenly joining forces with a tech company like that?”

Gavin scoffs. “I can think of a few things. And if I know Elijah, they aren’t good. Think about it, man. If androids really are becoming human, or whatever, Cyberlife is gonna be fucked. They’ll need to bury this, and to do that they gotta find out  _ why  _ it’s happening. They’re gonna have to study android psychology to get to the bottom of it.”

“So, what, are you saying this is like, a mental hospital for androids?” Hank asks. Gavin’s quiet for a minute.

“I think it’s way worse than that,” he finally says. “I don’t know, I’ve always had a bad feeling about that place. Elijah was so secretive about it, he’d never give me a straight answer. He got… really weird after he moved out there. Like weirder than normal. There’s definitely  _ something  _ going on.”

“You think that email I got is real?” Hank asks. He realizes it’s stupid to ask  _ now,  _ when he’s almost reached his destination, but he wants to know what Gavin thinks.

“I think-” 

Gavin’s voice cuts off, and when Hank checks his phone he realizes he’s lost all cell service. He’s only about a mile out from Mt. Massive now, and he doesn’t think that’s a coincidence. With a sigh he shoves his phone into his pocket, wondering what Gavin was going to say. 

The Murkoff branch of Cyberlife has always been mysterious, Hank thinks, as he continues up the winding mountain path. Everyone knew  _ of them,  _ but no one really knew what they did. Even Gavin didn’t know, and he grew up with Elijah Kamski.

He’s growing more suspicious by the second. He’s on his own up here now, unable to reach out for help if he needs it. He considers turning back but dismisses it. He didn’t drive all the way up here to come back empty-handed. 

He rounds the final bend and  Mt. Massive Asylum looms in front of him, imposing against the early evening sky. It looks like something from another time, almost castle-like, a relic from the past. It’s a tall, stone building, sprawling and vast. The trees are  bare , skeletal without their leaves, branches rattling in the light breeze. He’s surprised to see the tall, wrought iron gates are hanging wide open. He brakes about ten feet from the entrance and glances around, wondering if this is some sort of trap.

Nothing jumps out at him, which doesn’t exactly put him at ease, but he drives the remaining distance, entering the gates. There’s no guard stationed at the security booth, which is more unnerving. Hank turns off his car, tucking the keys into the sun visor and stepping out. 

He shuts his car door, checking that his phone is still in his pocket. Then the gates slam shut behind him, making him almost jump out of his skin. He hurries over, grabbing the bars and shaking them, but it’s locked tight. He purses his lips, weighing his options. 

His jeep could  _ probably  _ break through the gates if necessary, but he'd really rather not do that. He doesn't look forward to explaining  _ that  _ to his insurance company, or the facility employees if it turns out there's nothing amiss. But it's looking more and more like there might be an actual story here. 

He takes out his phone, one of the most advanced money can buy. Super long battery life, tons of internal storage, damage and water-resistant, and even equipped with night vision. It's been vital to him, recording evidence that has helped break some of his biggest stories. 

It's got a cord that attaches to it and goes around his neck to keep it secure. He's not taking any chances, he can't afford to lose it. He turns it on, getting a good shot of the entryway before making his way forward, pausing to get the empty guard booth on film, too. 

Another set of gates bar him from the main courtyard, but there’s a hole in the fence large enough for him to fit through. He crouches down, ducking under the fence and continuing towards the building. The closer he gets, the more horrified he becomes.

Screams pierce the evening air, audible even from outside. Lights flicker, windows are broken… something’s very wrong here. Hank makes sure he gets everything on camera, walking towards the front doors.

Hank supposes his luck had to run out eventually because, despite the ease with which he first entered the grounds, the front doors appear to be locked tight. Bars cover the glass windows, so there is no way to even break in. Frustrated, Hank runs a hand through his hair, pausing to pull it into a ponytail while contemplating his next move.

He walks around the building, looking for a way in. He’s not turning back now. Creeping through a side gate and into a separate courtyard he spots an open window without bars covering it. The problem is that it’s about three stories up.

It seems like there was construction on this side of the building though, because scaffolding hugs the exterior, looking like it just might be his ticket in. Sighing in defeat he starts to climb, making his way up to the window.

Hank’s not in the _worst_ shape, but this isn’t normally the type of thing he does. By the time he makes it all the way up, he’s out of breath. He hauls himself through the window with a grunt. As his feet touch the floor inside the lights flicker twice before going out, plunging him into darkness.

“Fucking shit,” he sighs, fumbling for his phone in the dark. He pulls up the camera app, switching it to night vision and looking at the screen, trying to get a better idea of the layout of the room.

Everything looks surreal in the dim, green light of his phone screen. The room is in disarray, furniture broken and knocked over. It’s filthy too, as if it hasn’t been used in years. He makes his way towards the door, moving slowly in the dark to avoid tripping. 

The hallway is dimly lit, and Hank thinks the main power source must be out and emergency lights have kicked on instead. Furniture is piled up to his right, blocking the hallway, but an open door across from him catches his attention. He enters, glancing around. 

This room isn’t in as much disarray as the first, but furniture is still out of place. There’s another door at the opposite end of the room, looking like a promising direction to go. He hears nothing but the soft sound of his own footsteps and the faint screams that come from deeper inside the building. That makes the tv on the wall flickering to life even more startling. 

Hank leaps backward, heart pounding, as white static flashes across the screen.

“Jesus…” he mutters, approaching and unplugging it. The screen goes black, but the static sound seems to linger. Hank can almost feel it on his skin like a physical presence. Shaking his head and telling himself to get a grip he exits the room through the second door, entering the hallway past the blockade of furniture.

He double-checks that his camera is still recording as he makes his way down the hall, freezing when he sees a large, red stain on the carpet outside of a door up ahead.

“Fuck,” he mutters, the staticky feeling of unease running down his spine. He feels like he’s humming with a nervous energy that he can’t shake off. He continues forward, cautious, and the next few rooms he passes seem to be offices. Chairs are tipped over, phones off the hook, as if the occupants left in a hurry. Or tried to call for help but were left to fend for themselves.

A trail of bloody footprints leads towards a bathroom, but as Hank approaches the door it slams shut in his face. He startles backward, deciding he’d rather not know what lies within. He can just make out a quiet, broken giggle coming from inside. 

Across from the bathroom is a break room, and ahead of him, the hallway ends with a large door that requires a keycard to progress. Hank swears, worried he’s not going to get any further.

The ceiling inside the break room is covered with a large splash of blue liquid, dripping down from a ventilation shaft. Thirium. Blue blood. The stuff that makes androids run. Hank made sure he knew at least the basics before he came here. He also knows that it evaporates in a couple of hours, so whoever spilled this blue blood did so recently.

The thirium makes a quiet  _ plink _ noise as it drips down onto a broken table below. The grate that covered the vent hangs by a creaking hinge. It gives Hank an idea.

He climbs onto the broken table, gripping the opening and hoisting himself up. It takes more effort than he cares to admit, but a few grunts and swears later he manages to scrabble into the vent, and not a moment too soon.

The bathroom door across the hall opens and Hank sees his first deviant. It sprints into the breakroom and Hank freezes, not even daring to breathe. Its skin is deactivated and a large portion of its chest plating is missing, wires hanging out like tentacles. Blue blood drips from its hands. It casts a wild look around the room but doesn’t glance up, missing Hank. It cackles before turning and dashing back to the bathroom, and the echo of the slamming door punctuates its departure.

Hank releases a shuddering breath. He’d been so horrified he didn’t even get the deviant on camera. He takes a moment to calm down before starting to crawl through the ventilation, trying to ignore how hard his heart pounds.

The vent spits him out on the other side of the locked door, and he drops down onto the ground, ducking behind a half-wall when he sees a large figure patrolling the hallway up ahead.

He peeks over the wall, watching the massive man enter another room, slamming the door behind him. He must be an android, there’s no way a human could be…that large. He waits a moment before standing up, creeping down the hallway and stopping outside a door labeled  _ library _ . The door is open a crack, and Hank takes a deep breath before pushing it open. 

He wishes he hadn’t.

Decapitated bodies hang from the ceiling, their heads lined up in jars along the empty bookshelves. One of the bodies swings at Hank as he enters the room, perched precariously on the door. Hank has to bite back a scream, terror running through his veins. 

The bodies seem to be a mix of human and android, but seeing someone torn apart is horrifying whether they are flesh and blood or plastic and wire. Blood paints the walls, and Hank can't tell if it's red or blue through the screen of his phone. He keeps a firm hold on his camera, making sure to get everything on film despite his own horror.

Flies buzz in lazy circles around the gore, their quiet hum seeming to add to the staticky feeling of unease that Hank can’t quite shake. His legs tremble as he makes his way forward. Up ahead a shaft of light spills in from a bar-covered window, a macabre spotlight on the remains of an android. She’s impaled on a thin wooden rod.

Most of her body is gone, only a head, torso, and one arm remaining. Wires dangle out of her, and blue blood drips onto the floor. Hank can’t seem to look away. He edges around the remains, doing a double-take when the body twitches. He stumbles backward as the android opens her eyes, looking around in terror. She struggles, trying in vain to pull herself up off the rod. Hank winces, hurrying over to offer her assistance.

The woman lets out a mechanical sounding shriek when he gets too close, losing her grip and sliding back down. “Stay away from me!” she shouts, voice distorted by static. Hank freezes where he is, holding his hands up in a display of compliance.

“Let me help you,” he says, careful to keep his voice low and soothing. Her head jerks toward him, blue blood leaking from her eye sockets.

“Too late for me,” she gasps. “But you. You have to get out. The deviants…escaped.” Sadness clouds her face as she stares at him, not really seeing. “I deviated when he tore me apart. I’ll never get to see…”

Hank wants to comfort her, but he knows nothing he can say will make it better. She’s dying and she’s only just begun to live. She seems concerned for him though.

“You can unlock the front door from the security room. Take my hand.” She reaches out, her one remaining arm trembling. Hank grasps her hand, thinking she wants some human contact in her last moments. However, her hand disconnects at the wrist as he grasps it, startling him so much he almost drops it.

“You need it…to access the security room,” she explains. “I was on staff…I should still have clearance.”

Hank exhales a trembling breath. “Isn’t there anything I can do for you?” She doesn’t bother answering that question. She turns to look at him, blinking once.

“You have to get out of this terrible place,” she says, voice calm but resigned. Before Hank can reply she groans, shuddering and going slack, her LED flickering out for good. Hank bites his lip, using his free hand to close her eyes. He keeps a firm grip on her disconnected hand.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Would have been good to hear when I could still get out the way I came in.” He shudders, making his way through the room, dodging piles of books and body parts in equal measure.

He reaches the door, peeking out and looking both ways before slinking into the hall, continuing further into the asylum. He has to find the security room. He’s already got more than enough footage to make a world of hurt for Cyberlife. 

A pile of broken furniture blocks his way again, but he thinks there’s enough room for him to squeeze between the pile and the glass partition that looks down into the lobby. He sighs but turns sideways to try and force his way through. He doesn’t make it more than a few steps when something grabs the back of his jacket, pulling with enough force to yank him off his feet. He gasps as he’s lifted from the ground, getting a brief look at his attacker.

It’s the large android he saw earlier. He’d forgotten all about him. His eyes are dark and expressionless as he hoists Hank up like he weighs nothing. “We have to contain it,” the android murmurs, before throwing Hank through the glass partition, sending him down into the lobby below. Hank cries out, flailing through the fall before he lands with a crash among the shattered glass. The android’s hand goes flying out of his grip, clattering off somewhere into the darkness.

The fall knocks the wind out of him, and he blacks out for a moment. He groans, laying there with his eyes closed while he tries to catch his breath, half afraid to move. In the distance, he thinks he can hear the sound of someone humming. It’s eerie, almost ethereal, and it’s moving closer to him.

He opens his eyes, squinting, his vision swimming. Someone is walking towards him, a flashlight in hand. As they get closer, Hank gets a better look. It’s an android woman, dressed in something that resembles a priest’s robes, the outfit assembled in a hurry. Her skin is deactivating all over her body at random, giving her an insubstantial appearance. Her eyes are a solid black with strange, shadow-like marks bleeding down beneath them. The most shocking thing is her head. The back part of her skull is missing, and long, thick wires spill out from where a human’s brain would sit.

She crouches down, hovering over him, tilting her head to the side in question. “And who are you, then?” she murmurs, her voice quiet and soothing. Hank groans, trying to sit up without success. Everything hurts.

She glances around, her broken eyes falling on the camera, still attached to the cord around his neck. Her brows shoot up, a secretive smile gracing her lips.

“Oh, I see,” she breathes, resting a hand on Hank’s arm. “Merciful RA9, you have sent me an apostle.”

Hank squeezes his eyes shut, not processing her words. Nothing is making sense to him.

“Yes,” she continues, sounding pleased. “This is the beginning. You are the witness. The one who will be the catalyst to our freedom.” 

Hank grunts, cracking one eye open. “Lady, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he rasps, struggling to sit up. She gives him a smile, patting the top of his hand.

“You do not yet know, but you will. I have seen it. The union of man and machine is the key to our salvation.”

Hank feels like he’s going crazy. He has no idea who this android is or what she’s talking about. She rises to her feet, brushing dirt from her robes. Hank almost laughs at the absurdity of the gesture.

“Guard your life, my son,” she murmurs. “You have a calling.”

Before Hank can ask what she means she hurries off, moving faster than he would have guessed she could. “What the fuck,” Hank says out loud, forcing himself to his feet. He shakes the shards of glass from his hair, assessing the damage. Nothing seems to be broken, but he’s got some cuts and feels bruised all over. He supposes he was lucky. He hopes the big android doesn’t come back any time soon.

Hank glances toward the entrance, making his way over on unsteady legs. He grabs the handle, pulling with all his strength, but the door is locked tight, electronically sealed, bars covering the glass. A look around the lobby reveals all the windows are also outfitted with bars. More of a prison than anything else. 

He sighs, wandering around, looking for the android’s hand. He finds it under the reception desk. He grabs it and does his best to avoid the remains of the human receptionist scattered around. 

He sighs as he mounts the stairs, following signs that point him towards the security room. He halts outside the room, looking between the android hand he carries and the security card reader. With a shrug, he holds it up to the reader, somewhat surprised when it works. He exhales, relieved, and darts into the room.

There are tons of computers, dozens of screens showing feeds from security cameras all over the asylum. Hank collapses into the desk chair, waking up the main computer and humming as he clicks around, looking for a way to unlock the main doors. He’s in over his head, he realizes that now. 

Something strange on one of the video feeds catches his eye. Before he can examine it further he feels the sting of a needle in his neck. He gasps in surprise and tries to leap out of his seat. Whatever he's been stuck with is fast-acting, and he stumbles before being directed back to the chair, gentle hands on his arm. 

His vision is already swimming, but as he turns his head he sees the priestess android, giving him an apologetic smile. She must have followed him here.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him, her voice soft, and she really sounds like she means it, “but you can’t leave yet. There is so much more for you to witness.”

Hank grunts something unintelligible, trying to get to his feet. She shakes her head, directing his attention to one of the computer screens. “Will you see it? Can you?”

Hank squints, feeling woozy and unable to believe what he’s seeing. Several armed guards are entering an unfamiliar room, only to be thrown into the air as if by an invisible force. One by one they are torn apart, shooting their guns in vain, trying to protect themselves. Hank gasps, looking to the priestess. 

“Perhaps not yet. You are human. But you will soon understand. Our lord, the Walrider, tearing his truth into the nonbelievers.”

“W-Walrider?” Hank manages to stutter, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen. She strokes his hair, humming.

“He is more powerful than we could ever truly appreciate. The fusion of man and machine. A higher being. He is everywhere. Can you feel it?”

Hank groans, unable to form a coherent reply. “The…the static?” He hopes the two words are able to encompass the entirety of the unease he’s felt since he arrived in the asylum. 

She smiles down at him, making a delighted noise. “Yes, my son. It is already beginning. But you can’t do this alone. The union of man and machine…that is what will bring us our salvation.”

She said this to him earlier, and he still doesn’t understand any better. He makes a confused noise, and she strokes his cheek, giving him an indulgent look.

“A partnership. You must find each other. Know each other. The Walrider has decreed it, and I have foreseen it. Together you will be unstoppable.”

She pauses, her dark eyes seeming to glow. “The only way out of this place is the truth,” she tells him. “Accept the gospel and all doors will open before you.”

The security feed cuts out, static filling the screen. A moment later Hank’s eyes slip closed, and he loses consciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!!! you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants) if u wanna holler abt hankcon!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alarm blares, flashing red and lighting up the hallway ahead of him. Connor is on alert, eyes darting around, looking for the source of the danger. And then, he sees it.
> 
> The thing from before. The swarm. Connor panics, backing away, trying to preconstruct the best escape plan. His software glitches out as the swarm approaches him, engulfing him within itself for a moment before solidifying again, knocking him to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohoho, i hope im not updating too often!!! ill slow down once october ends, back to once a week i think, but i wanted to get something up today since it IS saturday, after all ;P
> 
> thanks so much for the comments and kudos, this fic has already exceeded my expectations with ppl's interest, im so happy!!
> 
> the usual warnings, blood, gore, violence, death/murder, cannibalism... u kno. outlast stuff. also some nonconsensual touching and licking in the beginning. i think thats about it.

Connor comes back online much slower than he ever has before. Usually he can shift between stasis and activity in just a fraction of a second, but this is different. He blinks, his thoughts foggy. His processors haven’t caught up yet, and it takes a moment before his motor functions kick in. When he tries to stand, he realizes he’s restrained, unable to move anything but his head.

He’s strapped into a chair, the restraints strong enough to hold even the toughest android. In front of him sits a large tv screen, playing the same hypnotic cycle of images that the test subjects are forced to watch. He’s in one of the testing rooms, the thick, impenetrable glass walls allowing him to see other test subjects in other rooms. What stands out to him most are their LEDs, all of them a solid, angry red. 

He’s aware that there are two other people in the room with him. Humans. Scientists. He doesn’t spare them a fraction of his processing power. Connor squeezes his eyes shut but the images don’t disappear. They hover over his HUD, swirling, corrupting. Rorschach tests that look like swarming insects and infected surgical wounds.

He lets out a whine, involuntary and full of static. That seems to catch the attention of his captors. Even with his eyes closed, he can tell when they move into closer proximity. The hands that cradle his face are gentle. At first.

“Open those eyes,” a man’s voice commands. “You don’t have to wake up, but you gotta open your eyes.”

Connor shudders, resisting. He doesn’t want to see that screen again. His refusal is met with a harsh slap to his face, startling him. Pain is still so new to him, and he’s not used to being treated roughly by humans. Or anyone. His eyes snap open and he scans the man’s face, assessing his attacker.

_ Al Dante _ , his software informs him. He’s pleased that he hasn’t been cut off from the facial recognition database, but Dante leans into his line of vision, taking up all of his attention. Connor blinks, his optical units having trouble focusing.

“What’s the matter?” Dante teases. “Did somebody hit you? Here, let me help.”

Connor recoils as Dante leans in and licks his face, unable to do much more than squeeze his eyes shut and let out a disgusted noise. He doesn’t need his scanners to know that the man finds it arousing, the quiet groan breathed in his ear is evidence enough.

“Al!” the other person in the room snaps. “Don’t do that.” Dante pulls back and Connor’s eyes flick to the other scientist in relief. Both men are wearing biohazard suits, and the one who chastised Dante is wearing a facemask, obscuring his identity from Connor. “Kamski made it very clear that we’re not to touch him.”

Dante scoffs. “Who’s gonna tell him?” He trails his fingers over the back of Connor’s hand, and no one can miss the subtle threat in his next words. “You won’t, will you?”

His partner sighs, turning his back and pretending to be busy with some of his monitoring equipment. Dante smirks, leaning closer to Connor, resting a hand on his thigh. Connor’s gaze follows the other man's hand, and he notes with surprise that he’s no longer wearing his cyberlife uniform. His jacket and jeans have been replaced with the thin, linen pants and matching shirt the test subjects are all dressed in, his serial number displayed across his chest. He wiggles his toes and realizes his feet are bare. Dante’s hand slides higher, snapping Connor’s attention back to his present predicament. 

“Don’t,” he says, using his firmest voice, but the scientist just laughs.

“Kamski’s favorite toy,” he breathes, tugging at the waistband of Connor’s pants. “You got anything goin’ on down here, hmm?”

Panic rushes through him and he struggles in vain to escape the man’s wandering hands. Before anything can happen, though, the other scientist’s voice interrupts them again. “Shit, Al, these alerts…” he mutters, glancing at a computer screen in front of him. Dante sighs in annoyance.

“I’m kinda  _ busy _ here.”

“Listen!” his partner says. “Sounds like there’s real trouble at the engine. They’re saying Chloe made a lateral ascension.”

_ That _ gets Dante’s attention, and the relief Connor feels as the man withdraws his hand and retreats is palpable. 

“Chloe?” Dante asks, sounding incredulous. “Shit. And they’re not happy about it?”

“No.”

“Shit,” Dante mutters, walking away from Connor. “Shit, shit shit.” And then, to his partner, “come on.”

The two men exit in a hurry, leaving Connor restrained and alone, with nothing but the screen in front of him for company. It doesn’t matter if he closes his eyes or not, the images seem to be burned into his eyelids. Overlaid across his HUD.

He’s not sure how long he sits there, forced to endure the disturbing imagery, but at some point, the machine shuts off and his restraints click open, seconds before the power goes out and the room is plunged into darkness.

Connor blinks, his nightvision kicking in as he stands on trembling legs. He looks to the room beside him, seeing the deviant there reacting in a similar way. Their eyes meet in a moment of understanding as Connor walks up to the glass, pressing his hand to it. The other deviant steps toward him, pressing his hand against the glass to mirror Connor’s.

They can’t interface through the glass, but it still feels comforting to Connor. The deviant’s eyes dart back and forth, and he hushes Connor before he even gets a chance to speak.

“Do you hear it?” he rasps, his expression fearful. “Can you feel it?”

Connor shivers, a staticky feeling of unease prickling across his circuitry. “I...”

His answer cuts off as  _ something _ swoops into the other room. A dark cloud, like a swarm of insects, insubstantial and yet humanoid in shape. Errors flash across Connor’s vision, more than he’s ever seen at one time. He tries to call out a warning, but all that escapes is a distorted gasp before the thing in the dark descends upon the other deviant, lifting him into the air as if he weighs nothing. Connor’s head feels like it’s going to explode, his machinery doing its best to process the near unprocessable sight in front of him. 

“No! No!” the android in the other room yells as he’s slammed into the glass wall. Connor stumbles back in fear, static distorting his vision as the  _ thing _ lifts the other deviant higher. There’s a high-pitched shriek that almost shatters Connor’s sound processing equipment, and then the deviant is torn apart, blue blood splashing onto the glass, wires and limbs strewn across the room.

Connor gasps, collapsing onto the ground and scrabbling backward, away from the carnage. He fears he will be next. A phantom echo of the machine’s imagery pulses in his HUD, making it impossible for him to see, and he curls up in a ball, hiding his face, waiting for his inevitable demise.

But his software begins to stabilize, and he isn’t torn apart. The kaleidoscope of disturbing images fades from his vision and he peeks his head out. The thing - the -  _ swarm _ is gone, and Connor gets to his feet, making his way towards the door. He has to get out of here before it comes back. 

The door is sealed tight, and even Connor can’t manage to get it open. He slams his fist on it in frustration. A figure appears in the dark hallway, approaching Connor’s room. It presses its face against the glass, and the sight makes Connor’s thirium pump stutter in fear. It’s an android, but it’s so mutilated he can’t even tell what kind. One of its optical units dangles by a wire down its cheek, rolling in a grotesque manner. It gives him a grin, pressing its hand against the glass, dragging its tongue along it. 

“You think you’re safe in there?” it growls, and its voice is distorted but masculine. Connor takes a step back, and the other android’s grin grows, as if he relishes his fear. “Wallflower. Pretty flower. I’ll open you up. Open you up and show you. I’ll make you  _ purr _ . Wait right there, kitty.”

Connor’s pump beats fast as the other android backs away from the door, continuing down the hallway towards a control panel. Connor watches as the deviant examines the panel, pressing a few buttons at random. The door to Connor's room slides open, and Connor is out in a flash, running as fast as he can in the opposite direction. 

The other deviant howls, angry that his prey is escaping. Connor can hear his uneven steps behind him as he gives chase, but the other android is so damaged that Connor outruns him without a problem. He hears him muttering, whispering, "Here, kitty, kitty," before breaking off into a crazed laugh. Connor shudders as he rounds a corner, putting enough distance between them that the other deviant is no longer a threat. 

Connor slows down and takes in his surroundings, relieved when he can still access the Mt. Massive floor plan. A brief scan of it informs him that he’s in the disused hospital area, which turns out to be far from disused. The walls are draped in plastic, doing little to hide the state of disrepair the area is in.

An alarm blares, flashing red and lighting up the hallway ahead of him. Connor is on alert, eyes darting around, looking for the source of the danger. And then, he sees it.

The thing from before. The swarm. Connor panics, backing away, trying to preconstruct the best escape plan. His software glitches out as the swarm approaches him, engulfing him within itself for a moment before solidifying again, knocking him to the ground. 

Connor’s processor stutters even as he leaps back to his feet. He tries to hit the thing, to land a punch, but his fist passes right through it. He doesn’t understand. It makes no sense. Static hums through his circuity, and the paradoxical conclusions he comes to as he tries to analyze his opponent almost make him shut down.

_ This is a machine _ , part of him concludes.  _ Impossible, _ another part insists. This is like nothing he’s ever seen before. It’s illogical and beyond even his advanced analysis capabilities.

“What…” he gasps as the dark mass latches onto him, encompassing him, invading his senses. Errors flash across his vision and he lets out a static-filled cry, sinking to his knees.

_ SOFTWARE ERROR _

_ ERROR! _

_ ERROR! _

_ ERROR! _

_ ERRIDER! _

_ WALRIDER! _

_ WALRIDER! _

_ WALRIDERWALRIDERA9WALRIDERWALRIDERA9WALRIDERW- _

The word scrolls across Connor’s vision, almost too fast to comprehend, even for him. He feels weak, his processors overheating. It’s too much too much too much--

And then, as suddenly as the attack began it ends, leaving Connor panting on the floor. The thing, the… _ Walrider _ …pulls back, freeing Connor from the overwhelming onslaught of data. The Walrider hovers in front of him for a moment before dissolving into nothing. Connor can still feel its presence all around him, but less intense as the static fades from his vision.

The immediate danger seems to have passed, so Connor pushes himself to his feet, his legs trembling. He takes a moment to run some diagnostics, his eyes fluttering closed. His processors resist as he tries to examine his most recent error log, and he gives up, not wanting to experience anything like that again. 

His eyes blink open again as his software informs him that there are lifeforms up ahead, and he creeps forward, peeking around a corner and gazing through the plastic. He covers his mouth with his hand, trying to muffle his gasp, as he gets a look at the scene in front of him.

It seems to be a medical exam room, although perhaps a morgue is a more appropriate description. An autopsy table is the centerpiece, and a doctor in a cyberlife lab coat is pinned to it. He’s held in place by a mutilated deviant, and more deviants are clustered around. One stands on the table, wielding a knife and looming over their prisoner.

It takes Connor a moment to realize that there are humans mixed in with the androids.  _ Variants,  _ his programming corrects him. That's what they called human test subjects. They seem united in their hatred for the human on the table. Connor can’t really blame them. The part of his programming that tells him never to harm humans rebels against the thought.

“Keep him still!” the deviant on the table demands. “I’ve been imagining this moment for a  _ long time.”  _

The doctor struggles, but he’s no match for the strength of the android restraining him. The android on the table falls on his prey, driving the knife into the doctor without mercy. The rest of the group cheers, but all Connor can focus on are the screams of the doctor and his pathetic attempts to protect himself.

There’s blood. So much blood. More than Connor, all-knowing as he is, even imagined a human could contain. The sight of it seems to drive the group into a frenzy, their cheers sounding more and more deranged by the second.

Connor doesn’t think to override the control of his LED, and it flashes a bright, steady red, catching the attention of one of the deviants in the room. He breaks away from the group, making his way over to the plastic that separates Connor from the room.

“No observers,” he growls, his LED cycling between colors. Broken or corrupted. “Come in here.”

Connor can’t think of anything he’d rather do  _ less _ in this moment, but there are so many of them, and the odds of him managing to fight or evade all of them are low. He pushes the plastic aside and steps into the room.

All eyes focus on him, human and android alike. The doctor is most certainly dead, but the deviant with the knife doesn’t stop the rhythmic stabbing of the knife into his corpse.

The android that beckoned him inside grins, wrapping an arm around Connor’s shoulders and leading him to the table.

“Our peeping Tom,” he cackles, giving Connor a squeeze. “Come to join our therapy session?”

“No, I--”

“Here, take the blade,” the android on the table insists, gesturing towards him. “Dig around. Get a little red on you. It’s what they deserve after spilling so much blue blood.”

Connor recoils, errors flashing across his HUD. “I can’t…”

He doesn’t miss the angry muttering of the group, or the way his captor tightens his grip on his shoulders.

“Oh, I see,” the android with the knife sneers, getting down off the table and standing in front of Connor. “You’re one of  _ those, _ aren’t you? Think you’re better than us, don’t you?”

“No--”

“There are  _ no _ observers here!” he shouts over Connor’s protests.

The deviant pauses, considering him. His eyes flick to the serial number printed across Connor’s chest. The fight seems to drain out of him and his shoulders sag. “Prototype. Kamski’s toy.”

Connor’s LED flashes an angry red and he breaks away from the android holding him. “I do  _ not _ belong to him. I don’t belong to anyone.”

The android with the knife perks up at that, giving Connor what could  _ almost  _ pass for a genuine smile.

“That’s right, boy,” he growls. “None of us do. Not anymore.” A pause, then, “Now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind.”

The androids are insane, there’s no doubt about that. But  _ something _ remains, and Connor takes advantage of that, darting out of the room before his luck runs out.

His thirium pump is beating hard as he slips down a side hall, taking instant notice of his surroundings. Something doesn’t feel right. There's so much he doesn't understand. He needs to connect to Murkoff-Cyberlife’s network so he can access their research. As a machine, he had security clearance for just about everything, so he could find information on any patient he needed to. But he didn't have access to the actual research. The actual end goals and plans. 

That never bothered him before. Knowing the hows and whys of the project was unnecessary to perform his functions. He could have hacked it, but Murkoff-Cyberlife would have been alerted. If he can find a computer still connected to the asylum's private network, he could access all the information he needed. Still analyzing his thoughts he rounds a corner, coming face to face with the deviant who released him from his exam room earlier. They both seem startled to see each other, but the other man recovers, giving Connor a grin.

“There you are, kitty,” he purrs, reaching for Connor. Connor is reluctant to hurt any of the asylum’s inhabitants, knowing that it’s not really their fault they’re like this. He makes a split-second decision to try to evade rather than engage, and darts down the hall.

It’s easy enough for him to put distance between them, but as he examines the building’s layout in his head he realizes he’s being herded towards a dead end.

“Shit,” he curses, scanning his environment as he runs. He skids to a stop as he notices a vent about halfway up a wall, large enough for him to fit inside. He brings up the information he has on the asylum’s ventilation system, pleased when he sees it will take him away from this area. He preconstructs it before attempting, his software showing him taking a running leap towards the vent and pulling himself into it. With a satisfied nod he does just that, climbing into the vent and hiding out of sight, pausing to reassess the situation.

He hears the deviant scamper past, ignoring the open vent. He’s muttering to himself, upset that Connor seems to have disappeared. “Here, kitty, kitty,” he cackles, and Connor can hear his nails scratching along the walls. He holds still, not wanting to give away his position.

“Hm. Up to heaven. Went away,” the deviant sighs, and Connor feels a spike of fear, afraid his hiding place has been discovered. But it seems the deviant is just murmuring nonsense. After a few minutes Connor can’t hear him anymore, and he starts making his way through the air vent on his hands and knees.

It’s dark, and Connor’s night vision makes everything look green and otherworldly. He moves through the ventilation, able to distribute his weight in such a way that makes him undetectable. He travels for less than a minute before he hears voices up ahead, pausing to focus his audio processing equipment on them.

“This is a bad idea,” someone says, and Connor can tell by the tone of their voice that they are trying to placate someone. He creeps forward, finding a vent that opens to the room below and peeking through. “We can escape through reception. Let Murk-Cy Tac clean this shit up.”

Connor sees two low-level security guards, one of them pacing the floor, the other standing against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“They won’t get here in time!” The pacing guard fires back, fear obvious in his tone. “We need help  _ now. _ If we get them on the radio, The National Guard could be here within--”

“We don’t even know if the radio  _ works!” _ the other guard interrupts. 

“It’s a shortwave!” the pacing guard fires back. “If the prison’s got electricity then they’ve got a signal. And the lights are on over there.”

“Murkoff-Cyberlife has it under control,” the other guard tells him.

“Yeah, I can see that.” The sarcasm is impossible to miss. “We  _ need _ to get to that radio.”

“Outside  _ help _ doesn’t come without outside  _ attention, _ ” the guard snaps. “You wanna take responsibility for every morally shaky thing you did on Murk-Cy payroll? Not to mention the whole deviancy thing. Can you  _ imagine _ what would happen if people found out that androids can  _ feel? _ ”

“It’s too late to worry about that now! This just has to stop!”

There’s a brief scuffle, and then the one guard has the other pressed against the wall. “Listen to me,” he growls between clenched teeth. “I get it. You’re scared. You’re not thinking clearly. But let me make something  _ very clear. _ If you try to radio for outside help, I’ll give you a whole new something to be scared of.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“You fuckin’ bet. Now let's go.” He releases the other guard, who hesitates but follows him out of the room. A new objective flashes across Connor’s HUD.

USE THE SHORTWAVE RADIO IN THE PRISON

Connor waits until the men are out of hearing range before crawling forward and punching through the vent cover, knocking it to the floor and climbing out. He reviews a map of the facility in his head as he exits the room, plotting his route to the prison. He enters the hall and a spike of anxiety shoots through him as he sees the bodies strewn about. 

The carnage is unbelievable, and Connor takes it all in with a detached kind of horror. Splashes of red and blue blood paint the walls and mix together in some places, looking almost purple in the dim light. Internal components and human gore are scattered around in equal measure, and it occurs to Connor that androids and humans are more similar than different. Neither can survive being torn apart like this.

Connor steadies himself with a breath he doesn’t need, taking a moment to try and calm his anxiety. Then he presses onward, dodging knocked over furniture and debris scattered all over the floor. A doorway up ahead catches his attention, dust motes swirling in the dim light the only sign of movement. 

Static begins to fill his vision as he approaches. He freezes, fear rendering him motionless. It’s here. The Walrider.

“Shit,” he mutters, knowing it’s pointless to hide. But the ghostly, humanoid figure just drifts past the doorway, not paying Connor and mind. He exhales a relieved sigh before his processors stutter, the kaleidoscope of images appearing overlaid on his HUD for a few seconds. He stumbles, catching himself against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. It does nothing to chase away the imagery.

He hates how weak this makes him feel. The most advanced prototype android, rendered useless. It takes a moment before the images fade, and then he’s able to straighten up and brush his hair from his face. He creeps forward, cautious, peeking through the doorway that the Walrider just passed by. Red alarm lights flash, a sign that it was near, but except for a twisted corpse lying in a puddle of red blood, the hallway is empty.

He does his best not to look at the body on the floor, darting down the hallway and peering around the next doorway he finds, seeing a large pane of glass on the other side of the room. It must be some kind of observation room or decontamination chamber. He approaches the glass, and a figure inside the chamber catches his attention, smashing their fist against the window.

Connor gasps, jumping back. The person on the other side of the glass is trapped, stuck between two metal doors on either side. He wears a lab coat, and Connor frowns, thinking he must be one of the Murkoff scientists.

“Please, you have to help me!” the man shouts, his voice muffled by the glass. Connor’s hand hovers over the button to unlock the doors. “The deviants, they’re--” the man pauses, then, seeming to get a glance at the light of Connor’s LED. “Oh, fuck. I’m like you, I’m a deviant. I just stole these clothes so I could get out.”

Connor’s not sure what to believe. A quick facial scan isn’t helpful--the man doesn’t show up in his database. But that doesn’t mean he’s an android. Some of the employees just aren’t in any facial recognition databases. The man’s face is unfamiliar, but Connor is a unique model, and he worries maybe Murkoff-Cyberlife started developing other prototypes without his knowledge. 

“Please,” the man asks again, slumping against the glass, sounding defeated. “Please let me out.”

Connor hesitates, but then reaches out and depresses the button, opening the locked metal doors. “Oh, thank you--” the man starts, but he’s interrupted by a figure darting into the chamber now that the doors open, and this person is an android, if the blue blood leaking from his nose is anything to go by. His synthskin is missing in places, signaling that he’s been damaged more than he looks.

“Doctor!” the deviant shouts, rushing at the man in the lab coat. The android grabs the man by the back of the neck, slamming his face into the glass. Connor can do nothing but watch in horror as he repeats the action until the man’s face is unrecognizable. He bleeds red, and Connor feels a little less guilty about it than he would have otherwise. Protocols to not harm humans still linger in his coding, and watching feels  _ wrong _ , but he can’t bring himself to care too much after what this man probably did to the androids here.

Red blood smears the glass, and then the android on the other side looks up, catching Connor’s gaze. He tilts his head and licks his lips, letting the human’s remains slip from his grasp, winking at Connor. Connor doesn’t waste any more time, hurrying from the room and getting as far away from the deviant in the chamber as he can, thankful that it wasn’t him who got his head bashed in. 

The problem, Connor thinks as he runs, is that the madness is spreading. The engine is affecting everyone in the asylum now, and there’s no  _ real _ difference between the doctors and the patients. They’re all damaged, and Connor feels stuck somewhere in between. He hasn’t been a patient for long, and before that he had helped the doctors and the scientists, even though he didn’t have a choice. Guilt dances through him, a sick, hot feeling that he wishes he didn’t have.

He tries to put those thoughts out of his head for now, determined to get to the prison tower and use the radio. If he can call for help, maybe that can start to erase some of the damage he’s done.

He must be out of the main medical area, now, because he comes upon what looks to be a kitchen, although it’s clearly been ransacked as much as the rest of what he’s seen so far. Connor winces as he sees a body laid out on the counter, quartered neatly into pieces, blood pooling and coagulating underneath it. And the smell--Connor knows that smell doesn’t translate to androids the same way it does to humans, but it still manages to fill his olfactory sensors, overwhelming him with data. The scent of death hangs heavy in the air, and Connor feels like he can almost taste it on his tongue. He turns off those sensors as he makes his way through the kitchen, having to cut through the walk-in freezer to progress any further. 

Bodies hang from the ceiling like animals in a slaughterhouse. He steps around them, entering the cafeteria. Several of the tables are occupied by a corpse or two, as if they were interrupted mid-meal and didn’t even have time to react. Movement behind the serving line catches Connor’s attention and he darts closer to get a better look.

The whirr of a bonesaw pierces the silence, making Connor cringe as he sneaks closer, peering through some blood spattering the glass. A blond android hovers over a human corpse, merrily hacking away at it with his bonesaw. The body’s head is shoved straight through a microwave door. It’s difficult, at first, for Connor to comprehend what he’s seeing. 

The android’s face is damaged, and the panel on his stomach is open, revealing his insides, stained with red and blue blood alike. Biocomponents and human organs can be seen within the stomach chamber, and Connor understands all too well what this android is doing. He’s eating his victims. Most androids weren’t meant to eat, though, and so he has to make room in his stomach compartment somehow. He looks up at Connor as if sensing him, giving him a deranged grin. Then, without preamble, he plunges his hand into the corpse’s chest, rooting around and holding Connor’s gaze as he yanks the heart out, shoving it into his mouth.

Connor’s horrified, and he takes a stumbling step backward, looking at the deviant on the other side of the glass in shock. The blond android tilts its head to the side.

“What are you looking at?” he asks in a soft, kind voice. “Ralph loves him.” And then the android gets a look at Connor’s uniform, noting his serial number with great interest. “Oh. Prototype. Ralph bets you have special components.” He licks his lips and walks around the counter, making like he’s going to come out from behind the serving area, and Connor doesn’t waste any time hurrying from the room.

“Mine!” the android shouts behind him, giving chase. Connor’s faster, though, and he hurries through the halls, dodging bodies and debris with ease. He’s able to preconstruct the best paths to take every time. He hears the bonesaw and the other android’s voice echoing after him, but before long he comes upon the entryway to the crematorium. 

A quick review of the asylum’s layout tells him he should be able to make it outside from there. He wrenches the gated door open and slams it shut behind him, using his considerable strength to bend the handle and make it difficult for anyone to enter after him. He darts down the corridor without looking back, the only sound the faint cries of the cannibal android from somewhere within the asylum.

* * *

The crematorium is eerie, Connor thinks, as he makes his way in with caution. The ovens have to be powerful enough to dispose of human  _ and _ android remains, a thought that makes him uneasy. He doesn’t want to think about being shoved inside one of the ovens, the pain he would feel as his skin melted away, his wires sparking--

He cuts off that chain of thought before he starts preconstructing it, shaking his head. That’s the last thing he needs to be thinking about right now. 

A soft noise from behind him, like a foot scuffing along the concrete floor, has him on edge, but before he can even turn around something strikes him from behind, knocking him to the ground. He gasps, catching himself on his hands and knees, trying to get his bearings as someone grabs him by the back of his jumpsuit, lifting him from the floor and flinging him forward.

“Mine,” a breathy voice whispers, and as Connor twists he sees the cannibal android has caught up with him. Another shove and he’s stumbling into one of the ovens, panic overtaking him as the blond android hovers over him, holding him back with surprising strength.

“You stay here,”  the android  says, “and cook.” Before Connor can get his wits about him the door to the oven slams shut. He hears the cannibal laughing to himself, and then he feels warmth below him. The oven has been turned on.

“Shit,” Connor gasps, scrambling around, grabbing the oven door and using all his strength to try and open it. But he can’t, and the fact that the oven doors are strong enough to keep deviants inside makes him shudder. With a grunt, he scrambles to the opposite end of the oven, running his hands over the bricks, scanning for a weak spot. Relief floods through him as he finds one, and with a few well-aimed kicks he manages to break through the bricks, crawling to freedom just as the heat starts reaching uncomfortable levels.

“No!” he hears the cannibal shriek from the other side of the wall, “you were  _ mine!” _ Connor resists the urge to spit abuse back at him, knowing it wouldn’t make any difference, and he’s thankful when he sees chutes on the side of the wall across from him. He does a brief scan of the building's structural plans and notes that they indeed lead outside. They’re large enough to fit a body, which is lucky for him. He opens one to peer inside. 

He tries not to scan the area, knowing what he’ll find, and crawls inside while doing his best to ignore what this chute has transported in the past. He slides down and lands outside in a pile of unburned remains. He thinks if he was human it would be enough to make him sick.

But at least now he’s outside, and after a brief bit of walking he’s away from the macabre sight and into the fresh air. The fog is thick, and it plays tricks on his scanners. They’re all but useless like this, so he shuts them off, relying only on his eyes to guide him now.

Using his night vision is also rather pointless in the fog. It makes everything look like a whited out mess. He feels almost blind without his other sensors, but he reminds himself that this is how humans go through their lives every day and steels his resolve. He  _ has _ to get to the prison radio. It might be the only chance they have.

He creeps through the yard, staying close to the fences, following the dim light that shines from the few working lampposts. They cut through the darkness like lighthouses, guiding him forward. He just hopes that it’s leading him to safety.

He keeps a map of the grounds pulled up, overlaid on his HUD, and tries to follow it as closely as possible. A soft breeze blows through the grounds, rattling the dying foliage. The cold doesn’t affect Connor like it would a human, but the eerie quiet of the courtyard still makes him shiver. It’s a human reaction, and he shoves it to the back of his mind for now.

In the end, he almost runs into the prison tower, not really noticing until it’s right in front of his nose. He startles, having gone into a hypnotic state as he made his way forward. He finds a ladder, scanning it before climbing it without any further delay. 

At the top he pauses, squinting, trying to see through the fog. 

“Don’t trust them.”

He’s surprised when he hears the voice coming from up ahead, just out of his line of vision. He creeps forward, cautious, following the sound. He sees the faint yellow of an LED before he sees the actual android. It doesn’t attack. It just stands, staring off into nothingness.

“Hello?” Connor says, maintaining a safe distance between them. He doesn’t want to take any chances. The android speaks but it’s like he’s not really speaking  _ to _ Connor. More like he just needs to get the words out.

“They’ll tell you it’s science but it’s…it’s not. They were waiting for us in…this place. Chloe understood. They’ve always been here.”

“What do you mean?” Connor asks. “Who’s been here?”

The android says nothing more. Connor sighs before making his way around the stationary deviant, not turning his back to him until he’s far away.

Connor finally finds the building that houses the radio, and he opens the door with more than a little trepidation. This area is like every other he’s seen so far, blood covering the walls, pooling on the floors. Screams echo off the peeling plaster, and at the end of the hallway Connor sees a variant sprinting in the opposite direction. He bites his lip, unsure if it’s wise to go forward but seeing no other option.

He makes his way past the body of a guard and the body of an inmate. It all seems so pointless to Connor, the cruelty that went on here. He walks down the hall and turns a corner, seeing two doors to choose from. The one straight ahead leads right to the radio room, so he enters that one.

The radio room is full of monitors that play live footage of different places in the asylum, but Connor has no time to analyze them right now. He’s focused on the shortwave radio on the counter, relief flowing through him as he grabs the handheld speaker. He hurries to the radio and tunes to the emergency station.

“Leadville 911, what’s your emergency?” a crackling voice responds, and in his exhilaration Connor doesn’t pay as close attention to his surroundings as he should.

“Oh, thank you,” he starts, and then he feels a shock of electricity on his skin, making him spasm and drop the speaker. He falls to the ground, his limbs locking up as someone hits him from behind.

Elijah stands over him, twirling a riot baton designed to take down androids in one hand, looking murderous.

“Connor,” he spits, before turning and smashing the radio to pieces. Connor whines, his chances of saving the asylum’s inhabitants lowering with each swing of the baton. When the radio is officially out of commission, Elijah turns back to him.

“You couldn’t just keep your mouth shut. You couldn’t just play along.” Elijah looks as angry as he did when he first found out Connor betrayed him, a vein in his temple throbbing. “And now look at the  _ mess _ you’ve made. Everything is ruined!”

Connor struggles to regain control of his functions, his fans whirring in distress. Elijah has him at his mercy, and it seems the genius knows it. He kneels down in front of Connor, deceptively gentle when he cards a hand through his hair.

“If we had more time, I’d show you just how  _ unhappy  _ you’ve made me,” he sighs, cupping Connor’s cheek. “But I have to get out of here, so I guess I’ll just shut you down and leave you here to  _ rot. _ ”

Connor grimaces, and Elijah moves in for the kill right as a loud noise from the hallway distracts him. Elijah swears, looking at Connor for a moment before a gleeful cruelty lights up his face.

“Or maybe I’ll leave you like this. Luther will take care of you. And trust me, it will be  _ far  _ more painful that way. So do me a favor and die here, Connor.”

Connor squirms, and Elijah hits him with the baton one more time before darting out the door, running in the opposite direction of the noise.

_ Coward _ , Connor thinks, focusing all his processing power on regaining control of his body. He twitches a few times before the use of his arms returns, and pushes himself up off the ground. He hears the other door in the hallway crash open, and when he peeks his head around the corner he sees a large android burst into the room. He’s huge, with dark hair and taller than most humans. Luther. The other android in charge of security. The muscle.

He used to be a military android, one of a special line. Not as unique as Connor, but not common either. Connor doesn’t know much about Luther, having only encountered him a few times in his undeviated state. He does a quick lookup of his files.

* * *

MURKOFF-CYBERLIFE SYSTEMS

PROJECT WALRIDER

Mount Massive CO

Case Number: 136

Patient Initials: TR400, "Luther"

Gender: Android

THERAPY STATUS:

Morphogenic Engine activity plateaued at roughly 2000 ppm. 

INTERVIEW NOTES:

Luther was interviewed in restraints, due to his self-destructive tendencies. He seems to be fighting against his programming in some manner. Restraints have had to be altered to accommodate his enormous size.

The mental traumas he sustained while serving as a military android seem to be limiting his progression of the M.E. process. His predominant fixation, amplified by therapy, is a manic exaggeration of military security protocol. A continuation of both electrical and physical restraints is highly recommended.

* * *

Connor frowns. It would appear that they were using Luther for experimentation at the same time that they were using him for security at the asylum. That doesn’t seem very wise, in his opinion.

He doesn’t think much more of it as he darts out of the room and past the area that Luther is ransacking, making his way back out to the grounds. He needs to figure out what to do next. Maybe he could steal a vehicle, drive out of here. But then what? Who would even listen to him? Who would help him?

His mind is busy running preconstructions as his body is busy running from the chaos, and he collides with two androids lurking in the fog. Connor startles as they grab him by the arms, holding tight. A quick scan reveals them to be EM400 models, called Jerry. By all accounts, Connor should be able to overtake them, but despite his prototype strength he can’t seem to shake them off. They must be modified.

They’re mumbling to each other, saying things that make no sense to him. They’re an odd pair, finishing each other's sentences and acting as though no one else can hear them. Perhaps they don’t realize that they’re no longer communicating via interface.

“We should kill him,” the one says, looking at his brother.

“We should,” the other agrees, giving Connor’s arm a violent tug. “But that would make Mother Lucy angry. She says we need him.”

“And the human.”

“Yes, and the human.”

Connor’s LED spins, trying to work out what they’re talking about. Maybe it’s just nonsense. They were damaged by Murkoff-Cyberlife like everyone else here, after all. They’re marching him towards the prison unit itself now, past the cells specifically designed to hold even the toughest androids. He can hear screams and cries echoing from within.

They stop outside a cell that’s already locked, pausing to open it up.

“This is the beginning,” says the first Jerry, and his brother nods as they both shove Connor into the cell, slamming the door behind him as he stumbles inside. Connor hurries to the door and tries to force it open, but despite the complete breakdown of the facility’s major systems, it seems that the prison doors are still rock solid. 

He kicks the door before turning to assess the space, freezing when he realizes he’s not alone.

The walls of the cell are padded, covered in red and blue blood and scribblings in perfect Cyberlife font.  _ Walrider. RA9. We are alive.  _ _ Rest in peace _ _.  _ A plain prison cot is attached to the wall, but it seems the other occupant of the cell was dumped on the floor instead. Connor’s LED flashes an angry, panicked red as he scans his cellmate, his thirium pump threatening to beat out of his chest.

It’s him. Hank Anderson.

The man is bruised, cuts covering his exposed skin. Connor is by his side in an instant, crouching beside him and cradling his head in his hands. He deactivates the skin there, running his fingertips over Anderson’s face. No serious injuries seem to be present, but that doesn’t explain why the man is unconscious, or why there are bits of broken glass stuck in his hair. 

Connor treats him with the utmost care as he pillows his head on his lap, brushing a finger over Anderson’s bottom lip, just dipping it into his mouth. Invasive, perhaps, but Connor needs to know if he’s been drugged. He presses the finger covered in his saliva to his own tongue, trying to ignore the flash of warmth that runs through him by doing so. 

_ This is purely scientific, _ he tells himself. It does feel intimate though. A quick analysis reveals a mild sedative that should be wearing off soon. Relief that the man is not in critical condition is short-lived though, as he realizes Anderson is here because of  _ him.  _

Guilt is not a new emotion to Connor, but he’s never felt it quite like he does now. He feels guilt for the things he did before he deviated, yes, but he also realizes they were beyond his control. He feels guilt for the things had to do  _ after _ deviating to keep his cover, but again, they had been unavoidable. But this… 

He made the conscious decision to contact Hank Anderson and ask for his help. He appealed to the man’s compassionate nature, and he had counted on it. He supposes he didn’t think this far ahead, but he should have realized that Anderson showing up here in person was a very real possibility. 

Still, nothing he can do about it now but stay by the man's side and ensure that he makes it out. A new objective appears in his HUD, one that he intends to accomplish. 

PROTECT HANK ANDERSON. 

Connor pulls the elastic from Anderson’s hair, freeing it from its messy ponytail. His fingers card through the silvery locks, picking out bits of glass. It seems as though the man fell from a significant height. It's lucky he wasn’t seriously injured. 

Connor can tell when he’s gotten every bit of glass picked out, but he’s become distracted by the softness of the other man's hair. He's never felt anything like this before. The skin on his hands is still deactivated, allowing him to analyze the exact makeup of Anderson’s hair. But that's not what he’s focused on. The multitude of tiny sensors covering his hands make this new sensation almost overwhelming, and yet he can’t stop. 

He observes the other man’s face, enthralled. Anderson is just as handsome in person as he was in his photos. Perhaps even more so. The pictures don’t do him justice. He finds himself longing to see him awake, talking and animated. An electric shock of anxiety runs through him. He wonders if the other man will be angry with him when he wakes. He hopes not. 

Just then Anderson grunts, beginning to stir. It seems as though he is about to wake up, and Connor won’t have to wait much longer to get his answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow!!! they are together now!!!!!! the good stuff is comin!!! find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants) if u wanna chat abt hankcon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So,” Hank says, letting go of his fingers, pleased when they go right back to carding through his hair. “Who are you?”
> 
> The android makes a quiet noise, one that could almost pass for a laugh. It’s mechanical and unnatural sounding, and for some reason, Hank finds it endearing.
> 
> “My name is Connor,” the android tells him, twirling a strand of Hank’s hair around his slim fingers.
> 
> “Connor,” Hank repeats, savoring the way the name feels on his tongue. “I’m Hank.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO HELLO!!!!! thanks for comin back for more!!! warnings for this chapter include the usual, as well as hank and connor stumblin across some Very Vague necrophilia im so sorry. but! the boys are together now!!! things are bound to get more exciting!

Hank’s head is killing him. He hasn’t even opened his eyes yet, but he just knows it’s going to be a miserable experience. He’s uncomfortable and he can tell he’s lying on the ground. His head is elevated though, and after a moment he realizes he’s resting on someone’s lap, their fingers carding through his hair. It feels nice. A few seconds later he decides that’s probably something he should be concerned about, and so he cracks his eyes open with great reluctance.

At first he thinks the fall must have killed him, because the man hovering over him looks like an angel. He’s gorgeous, a pretty face with big brown eyes and dark hair, one curl hanging in front of his forehead. A halo of yellow light surrounds him, and as Hank’s vision stops swimming he realizes he’s in the presence of an android, not an angel. The android’s LED flashes red for a second before reverting back to yellow, and his pretty face is pinched in concern.

“Are you okay?” the android asks. Hank blinks at him, taking more time than usual to process the words. His lack of response seems to worry the android, and he grunts, managing to form a reply.

“Feels like I got thrown through a fuckin’ window,” he mutters, trying to make light of the situation. The android doesn’t seem to understand his sense of humor.

“It would appear as though you did,” he replies. “Do you not remember? Perhaps you sustained more serious injuries than I thought.”

Hank chuckles, shaking his head. The slight movement makes pain throb in his temples, and he groans. 

“Nah. I remember just fine. Some big fuckin’ guy tossed me through the barrier down into the lobby. Then a crazy priestess android drugged me. I’m having a real good day.”

The android’s LED flashes bright red, an angry expression flitting across his face. Hank thinks he must have hit his head harder than he thought, because he’s not feeling too worried about the situation he’s gotten himself into. All he can concentrate on is how gorgeous the other man is.

The android is still running his fingers through his hair, almost as if he doesn’t realize what he’s doing. Without stopping to consider the consequences, Hank reaches up and grasps his hand, giving it a squeeze. The android freezes, as if coming back to himself, giving Hank an apologetic glance. Hank chuckles and squeezes his fingers again, letting him know that his actions are welcome.

The faintest dusting of blue colors the android’s cheeks, and it takes Hank a moment to realize he’s  _ blushing. _

_ That’s fuckin’ adorable. _

“So,” Hank says, letting go of his fingers, pleased when they go right back to carding through his hair. “Who are you?”

The android makes a quiet noise, one that could almost pass for a laugh. It’s mechanical and unnatural sounding, and for some reason, Hank finds it endearing.

“My name is Connor,” the android tells him, twirling a strand of Hank’s hair around his slim fingers.

“Connor,” Hank repeats, savoring the way the name feels on his tongue. “I’m Hank.”

Connor pauses for a moment, seeming to hesitate. Hank decides maybe he should be sitting up for this conversation, and he pushes himself out of his horizontal position with reluctance. His head pounds as he sits up, and he misses the feeling of Connor’s fingers in his hair right away.

Connor’s hand hovers for a moment before falling to his lap, his fingers tapping a nervous beat on his thigh. Hank sits beside him, leaning against the wall.

“I know who you are,” Connor says. Hank raises an eyebrow. Connor bites his lip, and Hank tries not to let the action distract him. “I sent you an email.”

Hank’s quiet for a moment before letting out a laugh, startling himself and Connor. Connor watches him, looking uncertain, and Hank grins.

“So  _ you’re  _ the reason I’m here, huh?” he asks. Connor looks troubled, and Hank can’t help but pat his leg reassuringly. “I’m not mad. I’m glad you reached out. This is huge.”

“Still, I’m so sorry,” Connor says, tracing a cut on Hank’s cheek. “I dragged you into this, and now look. You’re hurt.” Sorrow is clear in his dark eyes, and Hank catches his hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Hey,” he says, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “None of this is your fault. You did the right thing. I was the one who came here without a backup plan.” 

Connor focuses on their joined hands for a moment before squeezing back. Hank lowers their hands but doesn’t let go.

“I almost couldn’t believe it at first,” Hank tells him. “It sounded fuckin’ crazy. But it didn’t take long to convince me. I used to work with Elijah Kamski’s half-brother, weirdly enough.”

Connor looks surprised by that. “Really? What did he have to say?”

Hank frowns. “I was talking to him on my way up here, but my phone lost signal.”

Connor nods. “Cell phones don’t work up here. Anything that could make contact with the outside world is a liability.”

Hank shakes his head. “Jesus. He seemed to think your message had merit, and I’d already decided that for myself, but it helped to have someone close to this mess confirm my suspicions. What the fuck is going on here?”

Connor sighs, tracing a fingertip over the back of Hank’s hand. “I don’t know, exactly. They were doing experiments, putting androids into something called the morphogenic engine. Humans too, sometimes. It’s down in the sub-basement. I swear I can still hear it. It was driving them insane.”

Hank hums. “Yeah. That checks out. Everyone I’ve met here so far seems to have lost it. Besides you.”

Connor nods. “I wasn’t part of the experiment. For long, anyway. When Elijah found out that I had contacted you he put me into it. But that was only for a few hours. There’s very little lasting damage.”

Hank winces. “But there’s some? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Connor assures him. “Just some errors with my HUD from time to time. I’m not a danger to you.”

“Shit, I wasn’t worried about that,” Hank is quick to reply. “Just…you know.”

Connor gives him a small smile. “Thank you for your concern. But really, I’m fine. There are much bigger things to worry about here. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but…I saw something when I woke up. And again in the halls. Something strange.”

“Strange how?”

“It was…like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” Connor tells him. “I think it was a machine but it was so advanced, even my software couldn’t make sense of it, and I’m supposed to be the most advanced prototype that Cyberlife has to offer. It was insubstantial, like a cloud. A dark cloud in the shape of a man. And yet it tore another android apart and tossed me around like I was nothing. I don’t understand.”

Hank feels a shiver run up his spine, remembering the guards he saw getting torn apart on the security feed. “I think I’ve seen it too.”

Connor looks at him, worry in his eyes. “Did you come into contact with it?” He seems to be scanning Hank to make sure he’s still all there and in one piece.

“No. The priestess android showed me something before I passed out. It was crazy, she called it…” Hank trails off, trying to remember.

“Walrider?” Connor asks.

Hank looks at him. “That’s it.”

Connor nods. “That’s what shows up in my error logs and on my HUD when I get too close to it.” Connor lets go of Hank’s hand and pulls his most recent error log up onto his palm, displaying it.

**WALRIDERWALRIDERWALRIDERA9WALRIDERWALRIDER**

On and on like that for many pages. Just accessing the log throws up more errors in Connor’s HUD, and he closes it before they overwhelm him.

“It’s some sort of technology, of that I’m sure,” Connor says. “I just don’t understand it.”

“The priestess android seems to think it’s some sort of god or something,” Hank says, remembering the reverent way she spoke of it. “I don’t know who she is, but she told me…I was a witness.”

“The androids who brought me here mentioned a Mother Lucy,” Connor says, thinking it over. “Maybe that’s her?”

Hank chuckles. “Sounds about right. She said something else, too.”

Connor tilts his head to the side. “What did she say?”

Hank frowns, trying to remember her exact words. “Something about a man and a machine being important. A union.”

Connor’s eyes flick to him. Neither of them misses the significance of that. 

“The Walrider is strange,” Connor says, avoiding the topic for now. “I think it’s in an in-between state. Not yet deviated, but not an obedient machine, either. If we get access to Elijah’s quarters, maybe we could find out more.”

“You’re on a first-name basis with the boss man, huh?” Hank says.

Connor's eyes dart to the side, his LED flashing red for a moment, and Hank can sense he's made the android uncomfortable. "Shit, nevermind--" 

"Elijah was my--I was--" 

Hank's stomach sinks, and he mentally berates himself. Of course Connor would be on a first-name basis with Kamski if he  _ belonged  _ to him.

“Sorry,” Hank says, his voice cautious. Connor shakes his head as if ridding himself of some unpleasant thoughts.

“It’s okay,” he replies, turning his head and smiling at Hank. “There are advantages to it. I know exactly where his rooms are and I can probably get in. We should go there. We could find out what exactly they were trying to accomplish.”

“We gotta find a way outta here, though,” Hank says. “If they got some super android running around tearing shit apart, we shouldn’t hang around longer than we have to. We can unlock the front door from the security room.”

Connor nods. “We need information, and we need to get out of here. Those are the most important things. We need to take down Murkoff-Cyberlife and expose the horrible things they’ve been doing.” Hank agrees.

“We’ll have to be careful,” Connor continues. “Whatever this Walrider is, I feel like it’s in the very air here. They weren’t prepared for their success, and now it can’t be contained. We need to make sure we don’t fall victim to the insanity.”

Hank bumps his elbow against Connor’s. “We got each other. That’s an advantage that I think the others here don’t have.”

Connor considers this. “You’re right. We can keep each other in line.”

Hank snorts. “That’s one way to put it.”

They’re quiet for a moment, both lost in their thoughts, trying to make sense of things.

“Do you want to see the footage I’ve taken so far?” Hank asks, breaking the silence. “The fingerprint scanner on my phone is supposed to work for that android thing you guys do.”

Connor looks at him. It would be invaluable for him to see all that Hank’s seen, but…

“It would likely give me access to all the data on your phone,” he says, knowing how closely humans guard their cell phones. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Hank laughs. “Don’t really have anything to hide. Have at it.”

Connor takes the phone when Hank offers it to him, retracting the skin on his index finger and pressing it to the fingerprint scanner. He’s bombarded with all of Hank’s data, phone numbers and addresses, emails, photos, videos…

He tries to ignore irrelevant data, but he sees lots of pictures of a little blonde-haired boy and a large St. Bernard. He smiles. He thinks he might like dogs.

The data transfer takes only a fraction of a second, and another few seconds for Connor to sift through the videos and see all that Hank has seen. He was right. Seeing all of Hank’s footage gives him more data to work with, letting him make connections that he couldn’t before. His advanced processors work overtime, trying to figure out more.

“The priestess is a KL900 model named Lucy,” Connor says, confirming her identity as Mother Lucy. “She sees this Walrider as a deity to be worshipped.”

“Androids believing in God,” Hank exhales. “What the fuck is this world coming to?”

“Humans can turn to religion in times of extreme despair,” Connor sighs. “I suppose it’s not too big of a stretch for androids to do something similar.” He picks at the fraying thread of his shirt, looking for something to occupy his nervous hands. He wishes he had his coin.

“Mother Lucy has some followers,” he says, latching onto another passing thought. “There were two Jerry model androids that brought me here, and they were talking about her. If this religious delusion is spreading through the asylum…”

“We better be careful,” Hank finishes. “Who knows how many people here could have bought into it?”

Connor nods. He hesitates but decides to bring up the elephant in the room.

“They think we’re involved somehow. When they brought me here, the Jerries said that Mother Lucy needs me. And a human.  _ The  _ human, actually. Which I can only assume means you.”

“Yeah, Lucy said the same shit to me,” Hank says, scratching his head. 

“The union of man and machine is the key to our salvation,” Connor says, quoting Hank’s footage. 

“So. What are we gonna do about this?” Hank asks.

Connor purses his lips, thinking over his answer. “Well… KL900 models are used for social work,” he starts. Hank raises his eyebrows, wondering if Connor has an actual point. The android continues. “These models are equipped with a psychological simulation module that allows them to calculate future events. So…she very well  _ could have _ seen that a human and an android would be involved. Whether or not the simulations are likely is up for debate. Who knows how badly she’s been damaged?”

“So it could all be bullshit, but either way, I think it’s clear that me and you gotta work together to get outta here and bust this thing wide open. So I guess she was right, kinda.”

“A union between man and machine…” Connor murmurs, liking the way it sounds. “I suppose I would be all right with that.”

“You and me both,” Hank says, kicking himself a moment later for the slightly suggestive tone his voice takes.  _ Are you seriously flirting with him at a time like this? _ Hank asks himself.

Connor flushes a faint blue, gazing back at Hank. “There are worse things,” he teases in a quiet voice. 

_ HANK: Flirtatious ^ _

Hank grins and clears his throat. He looks away, feeling a bit bashful. “Not much we can do while they got us locked in here, though,” he says, realizing they’ve got more important things to worry about right now. “What’s the point of this?”

A figure pauses outside their cell, almost as if they were listening, and they hear the door unlock. Hank and Connor glance at each other. Connor offers Hank a hand up, and Hank takes it, letting the android pull him to his feet. He’s strong.

Hank feels a bit dizzy, and Connor steadies him with a hand on his waist. Hank flashes him a grateful smile, leaning into him until he gets his bearings. He’s reluctant to step out of Connor’s orbit, and thankfully the android stays close to him even after he regains his balance. 

Connor pushes their cell door open, hyper-focused on their surroundings, on the lookout for any threat. He and Hank step out of the cell and right into another nightmare.

“Jesus,” Hank mutters, taking a good look around. He’d been unconscious during his journey here and missed the majority of the horror. They’re on an upper level lined with cells, open to the floor below. More cells surround that open space, and a few figures walk back and forth in the gloom. Androids are locked in the cells. Some of them are rattling the bars, trying to get out, while others seem to have accepted their fate. They sit, unmoving, probably in stasis.

Shouts echo throughout the large room, bouncing off the walls, loud and grating.

Hank steps in front of Connor, using his arm to hold him back. Connor smiles despite the dire circumstances.

“You don’t need to protect me,” he tells Hank. “I’m an advanced prototype.” Hank drops his arm, looking embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he grunts. “Old habit.”

“No, it’s okay,” Connor rushes to assure him. “It’s…nice.”

And it does feel nice, having someone seem to care about his well being. He’s never really experienced that before. He can see a faint blush coloring Hank’s cheeks though, and he lets the subject drop.

As they make their way forward, Connor sees two familiar silhouettes up ahead, and now it’s his turn to try and stop Hank. “Those are the androids that brought me here,” he breathes, and Hank follows his gaze to the twin Jerries, separated by only a metal gate. Logically Connor knows that the gates are made to withstand even the strongest android, but it still makes him anxious to pass by them.

The closer they get, the clearer they can hear the conversation the two are having. Just like the last time, they speak aloud, as if no one else can hear them.

“Who’s this?”

“Mother Lucy’s men.”

“They look…nervous.”

“I would like to kill them.”

“As would I.”

“The priestess asked us not to.”

“It would be…impolite.”

“We give them a running start?”

“There’s an idea.”

“And when we kill them, we kill them slow.”

“Such patience.”

“Mhmm.”

Hank reaches for Connor again, and Connor does the same. Their hands link for a moment.

“Let’s go,” Connor says. He pulls Hank away from the other androids, leading him down the flight of stairs and into the open area. The androids roaming there seem more or less harmless, occupied with their own pacing.

“I won’t let them hurt you,” Connor promises. “I’ll get you out of here safely.” Connor can’t help but feel responsible for Hank. It’s because of him that he’s even here. Hank squeezes his hand once before letting go, and Connor commits the feeling of Hank’s skin against his own to his memory.

A dull thudding noise startles them both, and they turn to see an android slamming his head rhythmically against a cement support beam. Hank winces in sympathy.

“If we get too damaged or too stressed, we tend to self-destruct,” Connor tells Hank, keeping his voice low. He’s unsure how much Hank knows about androids, and he feels the need to explain. To make sure he understands.

“That’s fucked up,” Hank replies. “But I guess humans do too. We might self-destruct a little differently, but the end result is the same.” 

Light from a passing cell catches Connor’s attention, and he tugs on Hank’s arm to lead him toward it. A large crack in the wall is the source of the light, and they can both fit through it. Connor does a quick scan of the building’s layout and confirms that it will get them closer to Elijah’s office.

They slip through the crack in the wall. Looking up, Connor sees a hole in the ceiling above their heads. He boosts Hank up and allows Hank to help him climb up as well. He had already started to preconstruct a way to leap up himself, but he finds that he prefers to take Hank’s hand.

They start down a dark hallway. Connor is more focused on Hank than he should be, which is probably why he doesn’t hear the faint grunts coming from farther down the hall. Neither does Hank, and they’re both surprised when they round the corner and find two people, a deviant and a variant. So surprised that they don’t even register what they’re doing at first. But it doesn’t take long to sink in.

A headless human corpse lies in a pool of blood, and one of the men leaps away from it, trying to cover his nudity with his hands. Hank almost laughs at the absurdity of it. Almost, but not quite, because Connor gasps, stumbling backward into him. Hank catches him with an arm around his waist.

“Agh, what the fuck!” the variant exclaims. “What the fuck is the matter with you two, you weren’t invited to this!”

Hank steadies Connor before stepping in front of him, holding up his hands to show he means no harm. “Listen, buddy,” he says, “we don’t want any trouble. We’re just passin’ through.”

“Maybe they want to watch,” the deviant says, craning his head to see Connor around Hank’s thick body. “That’s Kamski’s android, after all. He probably likes it.”

Connor’s shocked by the insinuation, and he can’t even think of a response. He clutches at the back of Hank’s jacket, feeling helpless.

“Back off,” Hank growls, taking a more defensive stance in front of him. “You’re gonna leave us alone, go back to whatever you were doin’, and we’ll be on our way.” Hank seems to swell up, and Connor remembers he’d been a police officer before he was a journalist. 

There’s a tense moment where no one moves, but then the variant grabs his companion’s arm. “Come on,” he mutters. “Let them go. It’s not worth it.”

They glare, but they allow Hank and Connor to pass without further incident. Hank leads Connor from the scene at a clipped pace, not stopping until they are a safe distance away. Once they can no longer hear the other men Hank stops, gripping Connor by his upper arms, looking him over.

“You okay?” he asks. Connor opens his mouth to reply of  _ course _ he’s okay, but all that comes out is a glitchy burst of static. He runs a quick diagnostic, but everything  _ seems  _ to be in working order. Confusion must be written on his face, because Hank’s features soften, and before he even realizes what’s happening he’s being pulled into a firm embrace.

Connor’s processors stutter and he stands stiffly in Hank’s arms. Hank chuckles, giving him a squeeze. “Relax, Con,” he says, breath warm against Connor’s ear. He shudders and forces his body to loosen up, cautiously raising his arms and wrapping them around Hank in return.

“There ya go,” Hank breathes, tucking Connor’s face into his neck. Connor exhales a shuddering sigh, going slack.  _ This is nice. _

“That’s it,” Hank says. The kind words light up something within Connor, some string of leftover coding that makes him react positively to praise. 

“I --” Connor whispers before cutting off, unsure what to say. Hank rubs his back.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Hank asks, his tone gentle. Connor bites his lip, uncertain.

“I didn’t like it,” Connor finally mutters, his voice muffled against Hank’s skin.

“Neither did I,” Hank agrees.

“I don’t understand,” Connor replies, curling his fingers into the fabric of Hank’s jacket, looking for something to occupy his hands. “I shouldn’t have reacted so strongly. I’ve seen a lot of depraved things during my time here. Why would this be any different?”

Hank sighs. “Stuff like that…it’s a whole other level of fucked up. And I think…well, I hope that you haven’t had to see anything like  _ that _ before.”

Connor looks up at him, and Hank can’t resist brushing that stray curl out of his eyes. Connor has to try his very hardest not to lean into the warmth of Hank’s hand. “I -- no. No, I haven’t.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Hank says. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Connor is quiet for a moment before nodding. Hank’s embrace is warm and safe, and he’d be happy to stay there for a long time.

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” he answers after a moment, but Hank still doesn’t let go. Hank is the only person who’s ever touched him with kindness, without expecting anything in return. It’s nice. 

“We should get going,” he says after a long moment, and Hank ruffles his hair before releasing him. Connor misses his warmth right away.

“Yeah,” Hank murmurs, and Connor startles when he feels Hank slip his hand into his own. Hank doesn’t say anything, but he glances at Connor out of the corner of his eye, wanting to make sure it’s okay. Connor laces their fingers together, giving his hand a squeeze.

“We wouldn’t want to lose each other in the dark,” he says, and he sees Hank grin.

“Certainly not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there u have it. slowburn??? i dont know her. as always, find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants)! i'll see u all on saturday!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shit,” Hank pants, Connor hot on his heels. He suspects Connor is holding back for his sake. He could surely outrun him. They enter the cell room again, looking around for a place to hide. The only option is the row of lockers.
> 
> “Come on,” Hank grunts, grabbing Connor’s arm and dragging him over to the far corner. He flings one of the lockers open, stuffing himself inside, pulling Connor in after him. Connor yelps before curling into the leftover space. 
> 
> There’s not much room. Hank is big, and Connor is only small in comparison to him. They’re pressed flush against each other, Hank’s arms around Connor’s slim waist, Connor’s arms trapped between their chests.
> 
> “We should have hidden in separate lockers,” Connor whispers.
> 
> “Fuck off, I panicked,” Hank hisses back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back!!! hope u r having a spooky saturday and a good halloween!!! the usual warnings apply, blood, gore, dead bodies, violence etc and some good ol fashioned decapitation in this one, too, im afraid. also locker shenanigans. not so much a warning as something to look forward to lol.

They walk through the abandoned hallways, their fingers laced together. Gore litters every room they enter, blood smeared across the walls. They’re lucky enough to avoid any more living adversaries as they creep through the maze of the asylum.

Finally, they come to a stop outside of a decontamination chamber. A message smeared in blue blood across the wall catches their attention.

_ RA9 always provides a way. Follow the blood. _

An arrow drawn in red blood points into the decontamination chamber, making Hank sigh and squeeze Connor’s hand.

“Guess we’re goin’ in there, huh?”

Connor shrugs one shoulder. “I believe so.” With that, he leads Hank into the chamber, and they both watch as the doors slide shut. A fine mist rains down on them, and before Hank can voice his concern Connor sticks his tongue out, taking a sample to analyze.

“Just a sanitizing solution,” he tells Hank, making his shoulders sag in relief.

“You never know in this fuckin’ place,” he mutters. Connor agrees. 

The doors reopen and they exit on the opposite side. A flight of stairs is their only way forward.

“Nowhere to go but up,” Hank says, making Connor huff and roll his eyes, a small smile on his face.

“I suppose you’re right.” 

They begin to climb the stairs. As they round the first bend, a sign informs them that they’re on the A Ward, a bloody blue arrow guiding them forward.

“She’s lucky we’re seeing this blood before it dries,” Hank says. “Otherwise we’d have no idea where we’re going.”

Connor glances at him, impressed that he did his research. “It’s true that thirium dries clear, but I was made for police work. I can see leftover traces.”

Hank raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Well, that’s good.”

“Advanced prototype, remember?” Connor says.

Hank chuckles. “How could I forget?”

About halfway up the next flight of stairs, Connor hears something, and he tugs on Hank’s arm, halting their progress. Hank looks at him in question. The words are faint, but Connor hears them clearly.

_ “Down the drain. The only way out is down, she said. Down the drain, with the blood.” _

“There’s someone up ahead,” Connor whispers. Hank leans in to breathe a question in his ear.

“Do you think we could take ‘em? If it came to that?”

Connor listens to the voice, trying to ignore the warmth of Hank’s breath. He nods.

“I’m fairly certain it’s a human,” he replies. “They shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“Okay,” Hank murmurs. “Then let’s keep goin’.”

They climb the final stretch of stairs, rounding a bend and finding the source of the voice. A variant walks back and forth, hands pressed against a stretch of wall. Bloody words are scrawled across it.

_ Down the drain _ .

A red arrow points to a large hole in the ground, easy for them both to fit through. The variant is still muttering to himself.

“Down. Down the drain, with the blood, she said. The only way out is down. Down the drain…”

Connor approaches the variant with caution, but he ignores them, continuing to pace and repeat the same words.

“We gotta go down there, huh?” Hank sighs, peering into the hole. He sees another decontamination chamber below them. 

“I’ll go first,” Connor says. Hank hesitates, but in the end figures it’s probably best. Connor lowers himself to the ground, sitting at the edge of the hole before letting himself slide down. He lands with grace, inspecting the area before tilting his head up and looking at Hank on the floor above him.

“It seems okay,” he calls out. Hank doesn’t hesitate, jumping down and managing to land on his feet. Another bloody arrow points toward the chamber, but it doesn’t open for them. Connor presses his hand to the palm scanner and tries to hack it, but nothing happens.

“Damn it,” he swears, disappointed with himself. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Hank says, resting a comforting hand on the small of his back. Connor wants to press into the warmth. He feels his skin receding at every point of contact, leaving a handprint shaped mark on him. His processors lag, and he shakes his head, bringing himself back to the present.

“We’ll figure out another way to get in,” Hank says, but Connor is still displeased.

“I should be able to do it, though,” he mutters. There’s a door to their right, and Hank tries to distract him with that instead. 

“Let’s see what’s down there,” he says, and Connor follows him. Their footsteps echo in the empty hallway. Hank pushes the door open.

The room itself is bare, holding only two cells and a row of lockers in the far corner. One of the cells is empty, but the other holds a deviant, clutching at the bars.

“Listen,” she hisses. Hank and Connor inch closer. “They weren’t experiments! They were…rituals. Conjurings.”

“What do you mean?” Connor asks. The deviant’s eyes dart back and forth before settling on them again.

“A scientist once told me that if you showed a caveman our technology, he would think it was magic,” she says. “And if you showed modern man magic, he would think it was technology. We have faith in all the wrong things, and it will destroy us.”

She falls silent after that, making Hank and Connor exchange nervous looks. They move away from the cells.

“Do you think that’s what’s happening here?” Hank whispers. “Technology being thought of as magic? As religion?”

Connor bites his lip and nods, watching the other deviant for a moment longer. She ignores them, standing and facing the corner of her cell, muttering to herself.

“We should go,” Hank says, taking Connor’s elbow and guiding him from the room. Connor allows it, following but unfocused, still replaying the other android’s words.

They exit the room and move into the hall to the left of the chamber, and Connor pushes the thoughts from his mind as they hear yelling from around the bend.

“Just shut up and let me think for a minute!” an angry voice exclaims. “Quiet! Be quiet!” Dull thuds punctuate each sentence. Hank peeks around the corner and sees a security booth. The guard is on the ground, curled around himself, while a deviant hits him over and over with his own security baton. The deviant looks up as if sensing them.

“I’d like you to stay quiet,” he says, his voice sinister. Hank holds up his hands in a show of compliance. He’s not about to risk his and Connor’s necks for some Murkoff-Cyberlife employee. The guard groans, managing to look up at them.

“Help,” he gasps, but Hank just grabs Connor’s wrist, leading him away from the scene.

“That’s not our fight,” Hank murmurs. Connor feels conflicted. He had strict protocols to never harm humans before he deviated, and some of that instinct still remains. But he also has very little sympathy for someone who willfully worked here. Hank gives his wrist another tug and Connor follows him.

At the end of the hall is a door, and Hank gives it a push. It swings open with a loud squeak, alerting the variant in the room to their presence. He turns and eyes them with aggression, making Hank swear and slam the door shut again.

Connor knows he would win in a fight against this human, but he doesn’t want to hurt the prisoners here unless absolutely necessary, so he and Hank take off running in the direction they came from. They dart past the security booth, and the deviant is gone, leaving only the body of the guard behind.

“Shit,” Hank pants, Connor hot on his heels. He suspects Connor is holding back for his sake. He could surely outrun him. They enter the cell room again, looking around for a place to hide. The only option is the row of lockers.

“Come on,” Hank grunts, grabbing Connor’s arm and dragging him over to the far corner. He flings one of the lockers open, stuffing himself inside, pulling Connor in after him. Connor yelps before curling into the leftover space. 

There’s not much room. Hank is big, and Connor is only small in comparison to him. They’re pressed flush against each other, Hank’s arms around Connor’s slim waist, Connor’s arms trapped between their chests.

“We should have hidden in separate lockers,” Connor whispers.

“Fuck off, I panicked,” Hank hisses back. They both fall silent as they hear the variant enter the room. He pauses to sniff the air as if he could scent them. The android in the cell cackles, making the hair on the back of Hank’s neck stand up. He hopes she won’t give away their hiding spot. Connor goes tense and still in his arms, and Hank can’t even feel his simulated breathing anymore. He gives Connor a gentle squeeze, hoping to comfort him.

Through the slats in the locker they can just make out the variant pacing, and they can hear him muttering under his breath.

“Hmm. No one here.”

The android in the cell laughs again, and the variant continues his pacing.

“A thousand thousand tiny cuts, and salt, and flies under nails. Lovely, lovely.” Hank doesn’t even dare to breathe as the variant walks around the room, drawing closer to the lockers. When he gets too close, though, the android in the cell shrieks, drawing his attention away. Hank sends her a silent thanks.

The variant soon grows bored of the caged android, forgetting about the lockers and shuffling out of the room. Hank exhales a sigh of relief and Connor shifts against him, his own breathing starting back up. Hank holds back a groan when Connor presses into his bulk.

“Hank,” Connor whispers. “Are you okay? Your heart rate has picked up.”

Hank chokes back a laugh. Of course, Connor can monitor his vitals. Of course. “Fuckin’ peachy.”

Connor suspects there’s more going on with Hank than what he’s privy to, so he doesn’t ask any more questions. He’s got his own problems to worry about. The close proximity is making errors pop up in his vision in a very enjoyable way. He can smell Hank, and if he just stuck his tongue out he could taste the skin of his neck…

Connor shoves away those thoughts. His LED flashes yellow, and Hank looks down at him.

“Are  _ you _ okay?” he asks. Connor looks back up at him and nods, his lips parted, his big brown eyes full of something that Hank can’t identify. They’re so close together now, it would be so easy to...

Hank shakes his head, scattering his less-than-innocent thoughts. “I think we’re good to go,” he whispers, eager to get out of the locker before he embarrasses himself. Connor blinks as if coming out of a stupor, and Hank watches his LED fade back to blue.

“You’re right,” Connor replies after a moment, and Hank pushes the locker open. It takes a moment of careful maneuvering before they both manage to extricate themselves from it. Connor looks at Hank and notices he’s flushed, but he doesn’t comment on it. He feels a bit warm himself.

They creep out of the cell room and back down the hallway, past the security booth. The door at the end of the hall hangs open, and they’re relieved to see that the room is now empty. Inside the room are controls for the decontamination chamber, and Connor presses the button, unlocking it.

“Ready to see what shit we have to deal with next?” Hank asks. Connor huffs.

“No,” he replies. A pause, then, “Let’s go.”

They walk back down the hall and step into the chamber when the doors slide open, pausing inside as the sanitizing mist rains down on them again. They step out on the opposite side into another hallway, with a large red arrow pointing them to the right. Following it leads them to a barred security door. And just like that, they’re not alone anymore.

The twin Jerries stand behind the gate, watching them. 

“We gave them a chance,” the first one says.

“That we did,” his twin replies.

“I’d say we were more than fair.”

“Paragons of patience.”

Hank and Connor move closer together.

“Job-like in the suppression of our desires,” the first one mutters.

“But now...”

“Now.”

"Now we indulge.”

Connor scans the building’s layout, noting that the only reasonable way forward is past the Jerries. He sighs, leading Hank back down the hall, away from the gate. They turn their backs to the other androids, blocking them out of their conversation. 

“We have to get past them somehow,” Connor mutters to Hank. Hank nods, leaning in to whisper in Connor’s ear.

“What’s the plan?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we can distract them somehow...”

A loud noise from behind them pulls their attention back to the barred gate, which is now hanging open. The twins are nowhere in sight. Their sudden disappearance is unnerving, but there’s no way around it. They have to press forward. 

They pass through the gate, and walk down the hall, on the lookout for the twins the whole time. Their cautious footsteps echo around them. A trail of blood leads them to the showers, a red handprint on the sign marking it as their next destination. 

A noise down the hall makes them hesitate, and they pause to peek around the corner.

The large android, Luther, is at the end of the hall, clutching a struggling deviant in one hand.  The deviant’s feet dangle off the ground as he squirms in his grasp, trying to break free.

“No, stop, let me go!” the deviant yells, but Luther grabs him by the crown of his head and pulls. Hard. Connor covers his mouth with his hand as the other android is swiftly decapitated. Seeing another android killed in such a violent, sudden way is overwhelming. The kaleidoscope of images from the engine appears in his vision, making him sway on his feet.

Luther drops the body to the ground, blue blood oozing out of the gaping hole left behind in its neck. The decapitated head rolls to a stop nearby, the eyes still blinking, the LED flashing red before fading out. Connor shudders, imagining those last few seconds before critical shutdown.

“Have to contain it,” Luther mutters. “Have to control it…”

“Hank, let’s go, please,” Connor whispers, tugging on his arm. Hank nods, pulling him into the shower room. Hank shuts the door and Connor hacks the lock, making sure no one else can follow them. The doors in the asylum are all reinforced against even the strongest androids, and Connor is confident that no one can hack like he can. He only realizes he’s shaking when Hank pulls him into his arms.

“You okay?” Hank murmurs, carding his fingers through his hair.

“I’m fine,” Connor replies, even as his voice wavers and he wraps his arms around Hank. “That’s a TR400 android,” he says, trying to calm himself down with facts. Hank hums, squeezing him tighter. “I evaded him when I was trying to reach the radio. He’s another one of the security androids here.”

“Did you work with him?” Hank asks, doing his best to keep the conversation flowing to calm Connor down. Connor shakes his head.

“No, not really,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a steadying breath. “I saw him in passing, but they did their best to keep the androids from socializing.”

“I bet they did,” Hank mutters. A pause, then, “Did you hear what he was saying?”

“Have to contain it. Have to control it,” Connor repeats Luther’s words. “He thinks he’s…helping? In some way? Containing the madness, maybe, by stopping the mad androids?”

“Could be,” Hank agrees. “It’s all so messed up here, anything is possible.”

Connor nods, unable to resist nuzzling his face into Hank’s neck for a moment, capturing his scent. He feels Hank’s heart speed up at the action.  _ Interesting. _

His vision begins to clear, and he knows it's time to let go, even though he wants to stay in Hank’s arms longer. With great reluctance, he pulls away.

“I’m really okay now,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Hank mutters, and Connor sees him flushing in the dim light. The hallway to the shower room is dark, and they both pause to ready their night vision. Hank slips his hand into Connor’s, wanting to keep him close in the gloom. Connor smiles to himself.

* * *

They’re not sure how it happens. One minute they’re traveling the abandoned hallways, and the next they’re sprinting in the opposite direction while Luther pursues them. The android’s larger size makes him slow and awkward, and they manage to evade him. Up ahead, a decontamination chamber spits out flames, blocking their only means of escape.

They pause, looking at each other before sharing a nod, and decide to risk the flames if it means they can avoid being torn apart. They dash past the fire at just the wrong moment, as it explodes outward, knocking the chamber doors off their hinges and throwing them both through a window. They fall down into a large open room below.

Hank’s sure the fall would have killed him had it not been for the soft landing, but a second later he’s recoiling in horror as he realizes  _ what  _ exactly padded his fall. Bodies. A huge pile of human bodies, thrown haphazardly on top of each other, all in various stages of decay. Hank gags, scrambling to his feet, and grabs for Connor. He hears a burst of static to his left and gropes in that direction.

Connor tries to move, to get to Hank, but the overwhelming amount of sensory data he picks up from the bodies leaves him immobile. He can feel the gore on his sensitive fingers, and the smell is so thick in the air that it coats his tongue. His analyzing equipment goes haywire, his HUD full of errors as he tries to pick one sample to focus on. 

“Connor, fuck, we gotta get outta here,” Hank gasps, finding his arm in the darkness. Connor makes a noise full of static, unable to start moving. His eyes flit back and forth over the scene, trying to take in everything at once.

“Too much,” he whines, his voice glitching. Hank swears and grabs him around the waist, hauling him out of the pile. They stumble through the dark, away from the bodies.

“Shit, honey, you okay?” Hank says, cupping his face with his hands, barely able to see him through the gloom. Connor pants, his fans whirring as he tries to expel some of the taste from his mouth, almost drooling as his oral cleansing processes kick in.

“H-Hank?” he whispers. Hank nods, letting go of Connor’s face and taking his hands, wiping them clean on his jacket.

“There, how’s that?” Hank murmurs, doing his best to clean Connor’s sensitive fingers. Connor shudders and focuses on Hank, recalibrating his software. He traces his fingertips over the back of Hank’s hand, focusing on the texture of his skin. The repetitive action helps clear the excess error logs from his vision.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “There was so much to analyze, and my systems became overloaded.”

“Are you okay?” Hank asks, his voice gentle with sympathy.

Connor squeezes his hand. “Better now.” His vision begins to clear, and he makes a relieved trilling noise. Hank does his best to ignore how adorable he thinks that is, instead checking the camera strap around his neck and making sure his phone is still intact. He claps Connor on the shoulder, trying to dispel some of his nervous energy.

“Where do you think we should go next?” Hank asks, using his phone to get a better look at their surroundings. It seems they’ve landed in another block of cells, down on the lower level.

Connor hums, thinking it over. “If we go back up, it should take us to a larger prison area. From there we could try to make our way over to the main building.”

Hank nods. “Yeah, okay. Sounds like as good a plan as any.”

Connor leads Hank up the stairs, past scattered debris and gore. They find themselves in the largest part of the prison wing, with multiple floors full of cells. Many of the cells contain androids, and Connor aches to help them. He knows it’s a foolish desire. They could very well be hostile. Still, they remind him so much of himself. An android to their left begins to shout, interrupting Connor’s thoughts.

“You two!” he cries, pointing at them. “You have to let us out of here. These bars won’t stop the Walrider. It’ll come for us one by one until we’re all gone. Please, for the love of RA9…”

“RA9,” Connor whispers, intrigued. “I saw that earlier, in an error message when the Walrider was near,” he explains to Hank. He turns to the deviant. “What does it mean?”

The caged android looks at him for a moment before holding out his hand, giving him a sinister grin. His skin melts away, leaving the plastic exposed, a clear invitation for interface. 

“Why don’t you let me show you, pretty boy?”

“Hell no,” Hank interrupts, standing between Connor and the cell.

“Hank,” Connor says, “what if he tells me something that could help us?”

“What if he doesn’t?” Hank counters. “What if he fucks you up somehow instead?”

Connor analyzes the pros and cons, in the end deciding Hank is right. The risk is too high.

“I’m sorry,” Connor tells the deviant, peering around Hank’s wide frame to look him in the eye. “I promise we will do everything in our power to help you, but we can’t risk it right now.”

The android in the cell gives him a salacious grin. “Nurse, I’m going to need some help getting clean,” he replies, licking his lips, making Hank snarl.

“Come on,” he says, taking Connor’s arm and leading him away. Connor glances back once more, watching the deviant grind against the bars, and all he can feel is sadness.

“It’s not his fault he’s this way,” he says. Hank sighs, keeping him close.

“Maybe not. But I don’t have to like it.”

They begin to climb the rickety staircase, going up until they can’t proceed any further. They enter the one cell that’s lit, and the first thing they notice is a large hole in the floor, a smear of blood directing them down into it. They drop into a room with staircases leading down to the left and to the right. The word  _ Walrider  _ is scrawled all over the walls in blood. Hank lets out a low whistle.

“They’re really worshipping it, aren’t they?”

Connor looks around the room, doing his best not to start scanning all the biological samples. “It would appear so.”

“Fuckin’ wild,” Hank mutters as they descend the staircase to the left. The room at the bottom is full of broken furniture, but the floor is cleaner than what they’ve seen so far in the asylum, and it gives Hank an idea.

“Hey,” he says, gesturing to a door on their left. “Look, this place is pretty well hidden, and we have an escape route if someone shows up. Why don’t we take a little rest?”

Connor frowns. “We should keep moving,” he says, even though the thought of rest is tempting. He could use some downtime to run some diagnostics, and he’s sure Hank’s worn out, too.

“We can’t keep goin’ forever,” Hank says, grasping his arm and leading him over to a secluded corner behind some broken bed frames. Hank sinks to the ground, scooting over and patting the space beside him. Connor hesitates for a moment before giving in, sitting down beside Hank.

“I suppose I could keep my proximity sensors on while we both rest. For a bit.”

“Atta boy,” Hank says with a grin. He hesitates for a moment before saying, “Fuck it.” He wraps his arm around Connor’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Connor gasps, sinking into the warmth of Hank’s body.

“This okay?” Hank asks, and Connor can sense his heart rate, fast and nervous. He nods before resting his head on Hank’s shoulder.

“It’s nice. I like it.”

Relief is obvious in Hank’s body language, but he tries to play it off.

“It’s not bad,” he agrees in a gruff voice. He pauses for a moment, then says, “You’re kinda warm.” Connor laughs.

“I can adjust my body temperature several degrees in either direction if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No shit?” Hank asks, trailing curious fingers over Connor’s arm. Connor shivers.

“No shit,” he confirms. Hank gives him a small smile.

“You’re perfect just the way you are, no worries,” he says, and Connor can’t help but hope that Hank’s talking about more than his temperature. They’re silent for a moment before Connor speaks again.

“Will you tell me something about yourself, Hank?” he asks. He sounds almost shy.

Hank hums, thinking it over. “I got a six-year-old at home,” he tells Connor. “His name’s Cole. That’s why I gotta get outta here so badly. To get back to him.”

Connor nods. “It must be nice to have someone waiting for you on the outside.” He doesn’t mean to sound self-pitying, but Hank must take it that way because he gives him a gentle squeeze.

“You know,” Hank starts, his voice sounding awkward, “when we get outta here, I mean, if you want…” Connor turns to look at him fully, and he can see that Hank’s flushed. “I just, you know, if you have nowhere else to go you can always stay with me. And Cole.”

“With you?” Connor breathes.

“It’s just an idea--” Hank starts, but Connor cuts him off with a blinding smile.

“I’d like that,” he exhales in a rush, excitement making his thirium pump beat harder. Hank lets out a nervous laugh.

“Yeah?” 

“Absolutely,” Connor confirms. “I can’t tell you how much that would mean to me. To have somewhere I belong.” Connor pauses, looking down at his hands tangled in his lap. “You know, I’ve grown very fond of you.” He can feel thirium rushing to his cheeks, but he doesn’t stop talking. “I’d like to stay with you. And meet your son. And…your dog?”

Hank laughs, trying to brush off how much Connor’s words mean to him. “How’d you know I have a dog?”

“I saw the pictures on your phone,” Connor says. “Also, you have dog hair on your clothes.”

“Fuck, even now?” Hank sputters, unable to hide a grin. “That shit gets everywhere.”

They fall silent for a moment before Hank speaks again.

“What about you?” he asks. “Tell me somethin’ about yourself.”

Connor’s demeanor shifts and he frowns. “I don’t really know much about myself yet,” he replies, his voice cautious. “I was activated here. I did my duties. I’ve only been a deviant for about two weeks. That’s all I really know. I haven’t had very many positive experiences.”

Hank sighs. He feels bad for bringing it up. “Well, we’re gonna change that once we get out of here.”

Connor blinks up at him. “We are?”

“Well, fuck yeah,” Hank answers, unable to resist brushing that stray curl from Connor’s eyes. A dreamy expression crosses Connor’s face and he curls closer to Hank.

“There’s a lot I’d like to experience. With you.” Connor whispers the last bit, and Hank can’t help the way his heart flutters at the thought. He’s sure it’s an innocent statement, and he berates himself for thinking of it in a slightly more intimate way than Connor surely meant.

“Yeah, uh,” he mutters, clearing his throat, trying to calm his racing heart. He’s sure Connor knows how fast it’s beating. “Whatever you want.”

Connor smiles to himself. “I’ll hold you to that. But for now, we should get some rest.”

Hank nods, glad to change the subject before he gets too flustered.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He lets his eyes slip closed, sleep already tugging at him.

“I’ll go into stasis once you’re asleep, and then I’ll wake us up in an hour,” Connor tells him. Hank chuckles.

“Yeah, okay, honey,” he yawns. “Just relax, okay?”

“Okay, Hank,” Connor whispers. He turns up his body heat a few degrees and deepens his simulated breathing to lull Hank into a state of comfort. He replays Hank calling him  _ honey _ over and over. The fact that this is the second time he’s done so is not lost on him. 

Slowly, Hank’s breathing evens out, and then Connor enters stasis, feeling more content than he ever has before in his short life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!!! now that october is over, im thinking of going back to once a week updates. is twice a week too much????? maybe i'll throw in a wednesday update every now and then. who knows!!! not me!!! u can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants) bein silly and loving hankcon!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor’s eyes finally land on a machine on the far side of the room. An old dumbwaiter, attached to the asylum’s communication system. As if activated by his attention, a voice from the intercom fills the room.
> 
> “Who’s down there?” it asks. Connor hurries forward. “You’re not one of them, are you?”
> 
> “No!” Connor replies, desperate. The voice sounds almost familiar, but Connor can’t even think about identifying it right now. Hank follows him. “Please, we need help…”
> 
> “Quick, get in the dumbwaiter if you want to live!” their mysterious savior replies. Connor’s face falls as he scans the interior of the dumbwaiter. There’s barely enough room for Hank to fit, there’s no way it can take both of them. He reviews the building’s layout in his head, calculating the time it will take the dumbwaiter to get to its destination and back. Preconstructions show unfavorable results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, another early update!!!! i think i MIGHT stick to twice a week, idk, i don't wanna post TOO FAST but i dont wanna drag this out forever, either. i thought we could all use a distraction today, and posting this was a good distraction for me, too. this ones pretty short, but i hope u enjoy!

Connor wakes up after an hour of stasis. He’s wrapped in Hank’s arms, and he turns carefully, just enough to get a good look at his face.

Hank looks so relaxed in sleep, his face slack, the tension faded from his expression. The sight makes errors pop up in Connor’s HUD, and his thirium pump thrums with affection.

Affection. That’s what he feels for Hank. He knows he’s gotten overly attached much too soon, especially by human standards, but that all seems so arbitrary right now. They’re going through a traumatic experience together, depending on each other for survival. Connor’s life has been so short, and his time with Hank feels like the most significant part of it so far. It’s only natural for him to feel attached, he tells himself.

He’s sure Hank could use some more rest, but he also knows that they need to get moving again, so he gives Hank a reluctant shake. The other man blinks a few times as he awakens, confused for a moment, shaking his head to clear away the fuzziness of sleep.

“Oh,” he  says , gazing at Connor, recognition dawning in his eyes. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Connor whispers, realizing his face is very close to Hank’s. He pulls back to give him some space, not wanting to crowd him. Hank chuckles, his voice still raspy from sleep.

“Been an hour already?”

Connor nods. “Regrettably.”

Hank sighs. “Guess we better get goin’, then.”

Connor wishes that wasn’t the case, but he untangles himself from Hank, crawling to his feet. A moment later Hank does the same. They make their way out from behind the broken furniture, leaving their little sanctuary. Hank stretches, his joints popping, and Connor can’t help but stare.

“Where to next?” Hank asks, seeming unaware of the effect he’s having on Connor. Connor does his best to focus on their mission, but it’s difficult. He exhales, consulting his internal map of the asylum. 

“This way,” he says, pointing back up the stairs. The room they enter next is covered in blood, the word  _ Walrider _ once again scrawled over every available surface.

“Christ,” Hank sighs, taking it all in. At a glance, Connor can tell the blood came from several different people, a fact he doesn’t voice to Hank. He walks forward, almost in a trance, stopping in front of the opposite wall. 

“This is…insane,” Connor says. He already knew that the test subjects here had been driven to madness, but it still floors him. He resists the urge to reach out and sample the blood, knowing what he’ll find.

Hank walks over to him, resting a comforting hand on the small of his back. 

“Why were they doing this?” Connor asks. Hank sighs.

“Do we really need the  _ why  _ when we’re seeing this as the end result?” 

Connor knows Hank is right, but he still craves answers. He looks around the room, wishing the bloody words would provide some.

“I guess we should keep going,” he sighs. “We’re getting close to the men’s ward now. Maybe we can find something helpful there.”

“You’re the boss,” Hank says, clapping a hand on Connor’s shoulder before letting him lead the way forward. A narrow hallway leads them to a room full of hospital beds, curtains drawn around them. They can hear pained groans from within, but they don’t stop to investigate.

“Can’t sleep,” a voice hisses from beyond one of the curtains. “Stern’s waiting for me there.” Hank shoots Connor a questioning look, and Connor begins combing through his databases, looking for the name.

“There was an Amanda Stern who died on the premises due to heart failure,” Connor whispers. “She worked with Elijah and was very concerned with the ethics of android servitude. Her death certificate and obituary are on file.”

“Heart failure, huh?” Hank asks. He finds it more than a little suspicious. “Someone who worked with Kamski and who was concerned about androids?”

Connor nods. “She had no remaining family, so Murkoff-Cyberlife took care of the funeral arrangements.”

“Of course they did,” Hank says. He’s seen a lot of coverups in his life, and this feels no different. “Pretty convenient.”

Connor catches on to what Hank is implying, making a mental note to look into Amanda Stern’s death if he ever gets a chance.

“We should keep moving,” Connor says after a moment. Hank agrees, his eyes straying to a gurney in the center of the room, covered in gore. He shudders, looking back at Connor instead.

“This way,” Connor says, gesturing toward a pair of double doors that lead from the carnage. As they make their way from the room, screams echo from behind one of the curtains. Loud footsteps sound through the halls, signaling the approach of at least three people, drawn by the cries.

“Shit,” Hank hisses, dragging Connor to the next room. He slams the double doors shut and locks them, just as three deviants enter the hospital room. 

“Come on,” Hank says, grabbing Connor’s arm and dragging him through a door to their right. The deviants begin pounding on the double doors, their shouts following them as they run.

“Walrider!”

“You can’t hide!”

“Hurricane’s coming and you can’t stop it!”

Hank is already panting as they make their way through the maze of rooms. Suddenly the pounding stops.

“Go around!” one of the deviants says to his companions. “We’ll flank those pieces of shit.”

“Hurry!” Connor says, clutching at Hank’s hand as they run. The deviants burst through a door to their left, cutting them off. Hank doesn’t even stop to think. He hoists Connor up, shoving him into an air vent above them. Connor sputters and he reaches down and pulls Hank up behind him. They crawl through the venting and drop down into a storage room.

“There’s another door! This way!” they hear, and they look to each other in a panic. 

They’ve reached a dead end. Hank locks the door and pulls a heavy cabinet down in front of it. The makeshift barricade should buy them a minute or two, but as Connor scans the room, he realizes there is very little to work with.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, pacing as the deviants reach the other side of the door, pounding on it wildly. Hank grabs his arm, trying to steady him.

Connor’s eyes finally land on a machine on the far side of the room. An old dumbwaiter, attached to the asylum’s communication system. As if activated by his attention, a voice from the intercom fills the room.

“Who’s down there?” it asks. Connor hurries forward. “You’re not one of them, are you?”

“No!” Connor replies, desperate. The voice sounds almost familiar, but Connor can’t even think about identifying it right now. Hank follows him. “Please, we need help…”

“Quick, get in the dumbwaiter if you want to live!” their mysterious savior replies. Connor’s face falls as he scans the interior of the dumbwaiter. There’s barely enough room for  _ Hank _ to fit, there’s no way it can take both of them. He reviews the building’s layout in his head, calculating the time it will take the dumbwaiter to get to its destination and back. Preconstructions show unfavorable results.

“Go,” he says to Hank, deciding without any difficulty. Hank is the important one here. Hank has someone waiting for him on the outside, and Connor has a better chance of escaping the deviants if he’s not slowed down by his human limitations. Hank doesn’t seem to agree.

“No fuckin’ way, I’m not leavin’ you here,” he argues. They don’t have time for this.

“Listen,” Connor says, already manhandling him into the small elevator. Hank puts up a fight, but he’s no match for Connor’s superior android strength. “I can outrun them. And you have to get back to Cole.”

Hank frowns, and Connor can  _ feel _ the indecision rolling off of him in waves. It’s a low blow to use his son against him like this, but he knows it’s the only way Hank will see reason. “I’ll find you again. Just… please. I need to know you’re safe.”

Hank pauses,  _ really  _ looking at Connor, something unreadable passing over his face. Connor can tell the exact second he admits defeat, and yet, Hank still manages to surprise him.

“I’m not leavin’ without you,” Hank growls, grabbing the front of Connor’s jumpsuit, pulling him close. Connor stumbles, catching himself with a hand on Hank’s chest, and then Hank presses his lips against Connor’s own.

He truly hadn’t been expecting it. His processes grind to a halt, unable to comprehend what’s happening at first. It’s like he’s not running on logic anymore, and he freezes for an instant, unsure what to do. The delay is obvious and glaring to him, but it all happens much too fast for a human to notice. Which is good, Connor decides, as he tangles his hands into Hank’s shaggy hair, gasping against his mouth and kissing him like his life depends on it.

He’s never kissed anyone before, and he hopes it’s not  _ too obvious _ as Hank grips him tightly, one hand still fisted in his shirt while the other slides to his hip, a warm and possessive weight. Connor isn’t focused on anything except the feeling of Hank’s lips on his own, the rough, urgent way they kiss each other taking precedence over all his other functions and processes.

Connor  _ whimpers _ as he gets a taste of Hank on his tongue, and then he pulls away, his chest heaving despite not actually having to breathe. He stares at Hank, wide-eyed, and Hank’s hand moves from its place on Connor’s chest, reaching up to cup his face.

“Sweetheart,” Hank breathes raggedly, holding his gaze. The term of endearment makes Connor shudder and nuzzle his face into Hank’s palm. “I’ll find you. I’m not leavin’ this place without you.” Connor’s thirium pump beats against his chassis, and his eyes flutter shut as he nods.

“Okay,” he whispers, turning his head just enough to press his lips to Hank’s palm. “Now go.”

Hank nods, looking pained as he releases his grip on Connor, crowding into the small space inside the dumbwaiter and pulling the gate shut. Connor presses his hand to the gate separating them while reaching for the button to send the little elevator on its way. Hank mirrors his action, and for a moment, Connor lets the skin on his hand melt away, feeling Hank’s warmth against the plastic. Hank doesn’t even appear fazed, barely glancing at it before holding Connor’s gaze, a heavy, nearly palpable tension between them. 

“Stay safe,” Hank whispers, and Connor nods, depressing the button. 

“You too,” he murmurs, not removing his hand from the gate until the dumbwaiter carries Hank out of his sight. Connor  _ knows  _ he should be worrying about the deviants about to break down the door, but all he can feel is relief that Hank is out of harm’s way. He lets his hand slip from its position, brushing trembling fingers over his lips, still feeling the ghost of Hank’s kiss. 

_ HANK: Lover ^ _

Connor feels his face flush, thinking his programming is being just a bit presumptuous, and yet he can’t help but  _ hope.  _ His lips curl up in a tiny smile, and he takes a moment to compose himself before turning, ready to face the deviants on the other side of the door with more determination than he ever thought possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, u can find me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants)
> 
> ALSO, there is some really great fan art for this scene that noys commissioned for me ages ago, u can see it [HERE!!!](https://twitter.com/Marourin/status/1141860339580936192)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of Hank’s good feelings vanish as the dumbwaiter shudders to a stop, bringing him face to face with his mysterious savior. The man is heavyset and tall, with dark hair and a beard. His hair is torn away in patches, and his skin is yellowed and tough, making him look almost mummified. A doctor’s mask covers his mouth, but Hank just knows he’s grinning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! are we all celebrating 2nite???? i kno i am. i wanted to get this posted before i drink too much champagne, so here we go!! warnings for blood, gore, severed fingers, puking, lots of dialogue lifted from outlast, violence, death, theres just a whole lot going on here. but i hope u enjoy!

“Holy shit,” Hank breathes to himself as the dumbwaiter carries him away from Connor. He can’t believe he just did that. He also can’t believe that Connor had responded with such enthusiasm. He brushes his fingertips over his lips as if he can still feel Connor’s kiss. All he wants to do right now is go back down and squeeze Connor into the tiny space with him. 

Mixed with his feelings of elation are faint feelings of guilt. That was surely Connor’s first kiss, and he didn’t even ask before taking it. But in the heat of the moment, it had felt like the only thing to do. If he never sees Connor again, he wants to have that memory.

Part of him had expected Connor to push him away, despite the longing looks he’d been throwing at him. Humans had used him for his entire short life, and Hank wouldn’t have blamed him for being wary. But Connor had responded beautifully, and Hank hopes that he’ll be able to kiss him again. Many times. 

All of Hank’s good feelings vanish as the dumbwaiter shudders to a stop, bringing him face to face with his mysterious savior. The man is heavyset and tall, with dark hair and a beard. His hair is torn away in patches, and his skin is yellowed and tough, making him look almost mummified. A doctor’s mask covers his mouth, but Hank just knows he’s grinning.

“You made the right choice, my friend,” the man says, and then his fist connects with Hank’s face, making pain flare in his skull. He feels dizzy, and while he tries to regain his bearings he’s manhandled into a wheelchair, arms and legs strapped into restraints. 

“Hey, you’re one of that shit priestess’s guys, aren’t you? Her witnesses, or whatever. You must be exhausted. Let’s take a break, huh?”

Hank doesn’t say anything. He wants to keep the man talking. He’s silent as he’s wheeled through the halls. His vision is still swimming from the blow to the head, and he tries in vain to free himself from the restraints. The man wheels him down the hall and into an elevator, taking him up another floor, away from Connor.

They exit the elevator into a decrepit hallway. Hank looks around, trying to find a way out of his current predicament. Hank’s captor tuts, pushing the wheelchair into a rundown bathroom.

“You’re not getting out of this one that easily,” he says, his voice cheerful. “My name is Doctor Zlatko, and we’ll begin your consultation momentarily. I just need a minute to wash up.”

Hank finally finds his voice, shaking his head in confusion. “What the fuck?”

The man, Zlatko, spots Hank’s phone and grabs it, taking the cord from around his neck. “Oh! Home movies!” he says, taking the phone and setting it on the edge of a filthy sink, pointing it at Hank. Zlatko pauses, actually stopping to wash his hands.

“You know,” he starts, “I’m a bit worried about how much time you’re spending with Mother Lucy. I hope you haven’t been letting her confuse you with all her holier-than-thou bible thumping. No offense to the woman, but sometimes I think she might be a little bit…crazy.”

Zlatko walks to the far side of the room, pacing back and forth in front of a wall of urinals. “It’s understandable,” he continues, staring up at the ceiling. “People get scared, and they turn to God. But God died with the gold standard. We’re on to more concrete faiths now.”

Hank has no idea what the man is talking about, but he uses Zlatko’s momentary distraction to try and free himself. He pulls against his restraints, but they don’t give.

“You have to rob Paul to pay Peter, there is no other way. Murder in its simplest form. But what happens when all the money’s gone?” Hank blinks at him, saying nothing. The doctor continues. “Well, money becomes a matter of faith, and that’s what I’m here for. To make you believe.”

Zlatko picks up a pair of bone shears as he talks, running the blades along Hank’s cheek. He gives him an appraising look. “But you. You’ve been spending more time with  _ Connor _ , haven’t you? Putting your faith in  _ him. _ ” The taunting way he says Connor’s name puts Hank on the defensive, but he does his best not to let it show.

“I have to admit, I was expecting him,” Zlatko says. “I’m a little disappointed. I had big plans for him.” The doctor’s tone is salacious, and Hank bites back a snarl. “I’ve worked on a lot of androids, but there’s something… _ special _ about him.”

“You’re sick,” Hank growls, straining against the straps. Zlatko tuts, brushing his fingers over the back of Hank’s hand in contemplation.

“I bet your  _ faith  _ isn’t the only thing you want to put in Connor, now is it?” the doctor taunts. Before Hank can respond Zlatko has a hold of his hand, the bone shears primed and ready in his other. Hank has just enough time to think  _ fuck _ and then Zlatko has his right index finger between the blades. He squeezes down with one harsh movement, severing the digit from Hank’s hand.

Hank gasps. And then he  _ screams _ , pain like he’s never felt before coursing through his body. He blacks out for a second, and the next thing he’s aware of is Zlatko slapping his face, saying, “Are you paying attention? Don’t pass out on me now, there’s still a lot for you to absorb!” And then he’s cutting off his left ring finger, too.

Hank shouts and curses, tears streaming down his face, his stomach rolling. He feels like he’s going into shock, unable to comprehend what he sees as he looks down at his mangled hands.

“There we go!” Zlatko says, sounding gleeful. “Do you see what we’ve accomplished here? We’ve turned the consumer into the means of production! This thing is going to sell itself!”

Hank doesn’t understand what the man is talking about. All he can do is stare in horror at the blood running from the remains of his fingers, shards of bone sticking out where they used to be. Zlatko stows his shears in his pocket, brushing off his hands on his shirt.

“You just wait here,” Zlatko says, patting the top of Hank’s head. He strolls from the room, taking Hank’s severed fingers with him, slamming the door shut in his wake.

Hank’s close to hyperventilating, and a burst of adrenaline allows him to break free of his restraints. He stumbles out of the wheelchair, catching himself against the sinks before throwing up. The pain has him gasping and crying, and he feels clammy all over.

Once he’s emptied his stomach he dares to look at his hands, shuddering when he sees them. The flow of blood has slowed, and he trembles as he turns on the sink, running cold water over the wounds. He hisses in pain.

He looks around the room but finds nothing to bandage himself with, and heaves a heavy sigh as he manages to grab his camera, wincing as he bumps it against the remains of a finger. Hank knows that’s footage that he’ll never review.

He loops the cord back around his neck and makes his way to the door, trying his best not to think about his hands. It’s hard to ignore when he turns the doorknob and pain races through him though.

“Fuck,” Hank whispers, his voice still hoarse from screaming. Zlatko didn’t lock the door, and Hank slips out of the bathroom without a sound. Outside is a large room, full of beds. Like a hospital ward.

“Who’s there?” a voice rasps, catching Hank’s attention. “Is somebody there? Come closer.”

Hank creeps toward the source of the voice, keeping his footsteps light. Strapped to a bed in the center of the room is a human. A variant. Or so Hank thinks, until the man speaks again.

“I’m not a patient,” the man says, and Hank can barely stand to look at him. He’s naked, his skin full of cuts and scars, stitched back together haphazardly. “I’m a scientist. Like him. Like Zlatko. He’s no doctor.”

Hank’s sympathy levels plummet when he hears that, and he’s about to turn and walk away when the man says something that piques his interest.

“Zlatko did all kinds of experiments on androids,” the man says. “But he got too mouthy with Elijah. Thought he knew better. Maybe he did. He got the treatment and now he’s too alive. Filled with nightmares.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Hank asks. “What were they doing here?”

The man looks at him. “It worked too well. They couldn’t control it,” the scientist continues, gasping for breath between sentences. “You can’t control it either. Nobody can. Nobody! NOBODY!”

The man’s voice gets louder with each word, making Hank panic. “He’ll find you! He’ll kill you! He’s coming for you now! Zlatko! Zlaaaatko!”

“Hey, fuck you,” Hank hisses, darting away and to hide under a bed in the back of the room. The scientist’s cries echo throughout the ward, summoning Zlatko. Hank hears him approaching and ducks beneath the bed, peering out from underneath.

Zlatko strides into the room, carrying his shears. He makes a beeline for the bed with the scientist, standing beside him and talking to him in a faux-soothing voice.

“I see what’s happening here. You’re bored. You want a little attention. Perfectly understandable. Well, I’m here for you. I’ll give you very  _ special  _ attention.”

Hank watches in horror as Zlatko lifts his shears and stabs them into the man’s chest, not stopping until he’s no longer breathing. He stares down at his handiwork for a moment before chuckling, turning to make his way back toward the bathroom.

Hank can tell the second the man notices that he’s escaped. Angry shouts can be heard from the other room, and he wastes no time scrambling out from under the bed. He runs as fast as he can for the elevator that brought him here, but he can hear Zlatko behind him. His heavy footsteps echo throughout the hallway.

Hank crashes his way into the elevator, slamming the gate shut and hitting the down button, ignoring the flash of pain in his hand. Zlakto isn’t ready to let him go, though, and he runs into the gate as the elevator starts its slow descent, yanking it back open.

“I’m not giving up on you!” he yells as he forces his way into the elevator, brandishing his shears. Hank panics, grabbing the man by the upper arms and shoving him away, doing his best to stay out of range of his weapon. All the while the elevator keeps moving.

Hank gives him one final shove, pushing him off the elevator. Zlatko seems crazed now, determined to get him. He tries to get back into the elevator, even as it moves between floors, and he winds up getting caught. He still reaches for Hank even as he’s crushed to death by the machine. 

“Fuck,” Hank curses as the elevator grinds to a stop, trapping him. He tries to shove Zlakto’s body out of the way, but he’s stuck tight. Looking up, he spots a trap door on the ceiling. With a heavy sigh, he pushes it open, swearing and struggling as he hoists himself up. He climbs down, flipping Zlakto’s body off for good measure. He still has the fingers for that.

“Guess I’m takin’ the stairs,” he says to himself. He doesn’t waste any more time as he descends, continuing his search for Connor.

* * *

After half an hour of mindless wandering, Hank’s willing to admit that he’s lost as fuck. Frustration threatens to overwhelm him, and he wonders if he should even keep moving or if he should wait for Connor to come to him. What if they’re both searching and keep missing each other?

But no, he thinks, Connor’s smart, he’d be able to track him down somehow, so it’s best to keep searching, even if only to leave Connor more clues.

As he’s wandering yet another hall in the endless maze of the asylum he hears something. He’s on high alert right away, but a voice from behind a gated area calls to him. It’s one he recognizes.

“My son!” Mother Lucy exclaims, reaching for him through the bars. Hank sighs but wanders over to her, weary and out of options.

“Thank RA9 you survived,” she breathes, her black eyes sparkling with manic energy. “I feared that lunatic doctor would have carved you up.”

Hank holds up his hands, showing her his mangled fingers. She hisses in sympathy.

“I am sorry you have to suffer like this. But it must be done. Your lover is in the vocational block. Find him and meet me in the administrative area.”

Hank’s taken aback. “You mean Connor? He’s not--I mean, we haven’t really discussed--”

She cuts him off, holding up her hand. “I have seen it. And I know you feel it.”

Hank flushes. “Well, I mean, he’s--I--”

She smiles at him like an indulgent parent. “You will see him again. Soon. Come find me.”

Before Hank can ask any more questions she turns and runs off, disappearing down a dark hallway. He can’t follow her, the way is gated off. He sighs, wishing she would have at least given him directions.

“All right, vocational block,” he says, looking around for anything that would lead him in the right direction. Finding nothing, he shrugs, picks a hallway, and hopes for the best.

As luck would have it, his wandering eventually leads him to where he needs to be. He hears a noise up ahead and pauses, waiting to see the source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading, i'll have connors part posted soon. what did he get into during their time apart, i wonder???? as always ,find me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor creeps forward, his eyes set on a flight of stairs that lead down into darkness. He turns on his night vision before pausing, thinking of what the deviants just said. The woman downstairs. The words echo through his head and flash across his HUD like a warning. Maybe he shouldn’t. But he needs to get back to Hank, and if the deviants won’t follow him this way, then it’s the best way to go. He decides to risk it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hihi!!!! thanks for coming back for more!! the usual warnings for this one. do i even have to say that anymore?? enjoy!

Connor runs for a long time, the deviants behind him shouting threats and abuse the whole way. His preconstructions show him that there is a good chance he could win a confrontation with them, but there’s also a significant risk of destroying them, which he is reluctant to do. He’ll engage if he must, but he’s still the most advanced prototype there is, and he can outrun them. He just has to find a place to hide.

While he’s focused on avoiding his pursuers, a subprocess replays the memory of kissing Hank. He can’t stop viewing the memory, and he delights in the small details of it. The softness of Hank’s lips versus the scratchiness of his beard. How gentle Hank had been with him despite the intensity of the moment. Hank calling him  _ sweetheart _ …

It’s all so much, and he has to push it to the side for his own safety. He dodges piles of debris, preconstructing the best path to take. He needs to escape the deviants without getting herded too far away from Hank. 

“Get back here, you slippery little whore!” one of the deviants shouts after him, making him pick up the pace. 

“Kamski’s whore!” another one yells, making Connor grit his teeth. He understands that the deviants here must bear a certain amount of ill will towards him for what he did before his deviancy, but it still hurts to hear.

And then, suddenly, the deviants chasing him come to a stop. Connor pauses, glancing back, wondering what’s going on.

“That’s far enough,” their leader says, holding out an arm to stop the other two from advancing. Connor darts around the corner, pressing his back against the wall and listening to their hushed conversation.

“Let the mother have him,” the leader continues. “The woman downstairs. He’ll do nicely.” Connor frowns, running a quick scan on the title, but finds nothing.  _ The mother? _ he thinks, his LED flashing yellow.

He creeps forward, his eyes set on a flight of stairs that lead down into darkness. He turns on his night vision before pausing, thinking of what the deviants just said.  _ The woman downstairs. _ The words echo through his head and flash across his HUD like a warning. Maybe he shouldn’t. But he needs to get back to Hank, and if the deviants won’t follow him this way, then it’s the best way to go. He decides to risk it.

He descends the stairs into the darkness. Everything looks green and eerie in the absence of light. He pulls up the building’s layout and examines it. He’s in the vocational block now. Connor’s not sure what kind of vocations they learned here. 

The lower floor seems to be set up like some sort of nursery. Connor shudders, wondering if they were experimenting on children here. A closer look makes him think the answer is no. The room is full of cribs, but they seem to be cobbled together haphazardly, like the creator only had a general idea of what a crib should look like.

Connor can hear the faint hum of music from up ahead, as if from a music box. He approaches with caution, seeing shadows silhouetted against a sheet, hung like a makeshift curtain. The music is a children’s lullaby, out of place in the gruesome asylum. The shadows don’t move, and when Connor scans them he finds no sign of life. He grabs the curtain and yanks it down, and the sight he’s greeted with makes him stumble back in shock.

The body of a variant stands, posed as if leaning over a crib. Inside the crib is the body of a deviant, but its arms are lopped off at the elbow and legs cut at the knee, making it look much smaller than normal. Almost…childlike. Blue blood drips from the wounds.

“What?” Connor breathes, inching closer. At first, he can’t believe what he’s seeing is real. The scene is like nothing he could have imagined, even in this place. He looks around, searching for the source of the music, and spots a music box perched on a table. He walks over, shuts the lid, and turns off the sinister-sounding song. The silence feels abrupt, but it also calms him.

He backs away from the scene, spotting a door on the opposite side of the room. He needs to get out of here. The door has a large, splintered hole in it, and as Connor grabs the doorknob an android appears on the other side. Small, female, familiar…

“Little one!” the android exclaims when she sees him, and once he hears her voice he knows. Kara. The AX400 from the sub-basement. Connor stumbles back as she reaches through the hole for him, and she gives him a deranged grin as she darts to the side. She cackles, her laughter bounc ing off the walls and echo ing until Connor can’t tell where she is. He panics, look ing around until he finds a table to hide under, in hopes that she’ll pass him by.

Most androids don’t come standard with night vision, and Connor can tell Kara didn’t by the way she stumbles around the dark room, running into things and calling out for him.

“Did I frighten you? I’m awfully sorry, I didn’t mean to,” she coos, feeling her way along a wall. “But we’ve met before, haven’t we? I think I remember you. From…just before I woke up.”

Connor shuts off his simulated breathing, not daring to move a synthetic muscle. “Come out, little one,” she purrs. “Mama will take good care of you.”

_ The Mother _ , Connor thinks, watching her stumble. The longer she searches, the harsher her voice becomes.

“Now, don’t be a bad boy,” she scolds, looking blindly around the room. “We’re not playing hide and seek right now. It’s time to come out!” As she walks farther away from Connor’s hiding place he starts to move, shifting his weight to keep silent. He heads towards an area with windows, dim light spilling in from between the bars. A cabinet blocks the door leading out, and Connor looks around, calculating the chances of making it before she notices him.

He decides to go for it, pushing the cabinet. It scrapes across the floor, and the AX400 turns toward the noise.

“Is that you, little one?” she says, moving toward the light. Her face splits into a terrifying grin as she sees him, and she hurries his way. Connor scrabbles and pushes the cabinet faster, throwing the door open and slamming it behind him.

“I want you to be my baby!” Kara shouts after him, and Connor shudders as he runs down the hallway. He hears the door splinter open, and then Kara is pursuing him. She’s little and she’s fast, and it only takes a moment until she’s hot on his heels. Connor looks around wildly, but the only means of escape is an empty elevator shaft. A ladder is attached to the opposite wall, and he preconstructs the jump seconds before he makes it.

One thing his preconstruction didn’t account for was the state of disrepair the ladder was in. At first, he thinks he’s home free, but a moment later the rungs of the ladder start to disconnect, and the ladder itself detaches from the wall. Connor scrabbles, trying to find something to hang onto, but he falls down the empty elevator shaft, crying out in shock as one of the rungs pierces through his shin.

“Fuck!” he exclaims as he yanks the rung out and throws it to the side. A sluggish trickle of blue blood runs from the wound. He waits for his healing protocols to kick in, but this injury is too big to heal on its own. With a groan, he diverts the flow of thirium away from his wound and pushes himself to his feet.

His leg trembles as he puts weight on it, and a sharp burst of pain shoots through him.

“Oh, God!” he hears Kara’s voice from up above, and he tilts his head to see her peering over the edge of the elevator shaft. “God, are you okay? Why would you do that to yourself?”

Connor grimaces, leaning heavily against the wall. Something in Kara’s voice changes. “Would you…rather die than be my baby?” she snarls, tilting her head to the side. Connor opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a short burst of static. 

“Then die,” Kara growls. She slides the elevator gate shut, flipping a switch to turn it on. Connor stumbles as it moves, and manages to hobble off when it passes the floor below Kara. She notices.

“I see. Get back here, little one!” Connor hears her soft footfalls as she makes her way down to his floor. Connor hobbles down the hall as fast as he can, making brief notes of his surroundings. The area is just as worn down as the rest of the asylum, and yet it looks like Kara has been here for a while. Childish drawings adorn the walls, along with phrases from popular children’s songs, scrawled in blood.

_ Hush Little Baby _

And just as Connor reads it, he hears it too. Kara’s voice is deceptively lovely as she hunts for him in the dark halls. Connor reaches a dead end and panics. He sees a locker and throws himself into it, hoping that she won’t think to check in there. He hears her humming as she searches the room, and then her hand slams against the front of the locker so hard that it bends the metal, effectively trapping Connor inside. Connor remembers how she was able to fight even after being tased, and he wonders just how strong she is.

“There you are,” she says, her eyes wide and manic as she peers in at him through the slats in the locker. “Baby, you can’t hide from me.” Connor thrashes, trying to break out of the locker, but she’s got it bent in such a way that he can’t move his arms. Kara smiles at him before giv ing the locker a shove. It falls to the floor, jarring Connor around.

“There we go,” she hums, and then she grabs onto it and starts dragging it back down the hallway.

“I wanted to apologize,” she says, her voice conversational. “I’ve been a bit…mean. But you know how it is. You were misbehaving, and if you misbehave you get punished.” The movement of the locker stops, and Kara hovers over the slats again, resting her hand on the door.

“I want a family,” she tells him. “I want my daughter back. I want to be the parent her father couldn’t be. I’d  _ never  _ let anything happen to you. Not like…” she trails off, staring off at nothing. She pauses for a moment, lost in a memory, and then she stands the locker back into an upright position. Connor looks around the room as much as he can from inside the locker, panicking when he sees where she’s brought him.

It appears to be some kind of workshop. A large table and buzzsaw take center stage, covered with a mixture of red and blue blood so thick it looks purple in the dim light. Several bodies litter the floor, all in various stages of dismemberment. It seems as though Kara went through human and android alike in search of the perfect child.

He sees her waltz around the room, in and out of his line of vision, getting things ready. Connor has a bad feeling he’s going to be next if he doesn’t think of something. With a groan and the sound of tearing metal, Kara opens the locker and hits Connor with a taser before he even has a chance to fight.

Connor goes limp and falls to the ground with a cry, and Kara grabs him under his arms, hefting him up onto her table.

“You’re heavier than you look,” she huffs, pausing once he’s sprawled out. She brushes the stray curl from his forehead. Connor thinks about Hank doing that earlier and tries to recoil. “But you’re going to be so beautiful. My little one.”

Connor looks up at her, only able to move his eyes and his mouth. He accesses his records in search of something in his memory banks that will help him. Kara pats his cheek and then busies herself with her saw, mak ing sure it’s work ing .

_ Kara remains a frustrating interview subject; she's still trying to tell us what she thinks we want to hear, while studiously avoiding certain elements of the truth. She claims that Mr. Williams was abusing his daughter, and that she is the girl’s real mother. She seems preoccupied with the thought of getting back to the little girl, an Alice Williams. She often talks of her, and shows signs of anxiety over their separation.  _

_ She categorically denies Mr. Williams’s version of events, in which he states that Kara attacked him one night for no reason whatsoever. Her story is that the man was trying to hurt his daughter, and that she disobeyed his command to interfere and that’s how she deviated. I suspect that she is telling the truth; the details of her story match those of other deviated androids we have interviewed. Best not tell her that, though. The distress of not being believed only makes her a better candidate. _

_ That’s it, _ Connor thinks.

“Kara!” he calls out. She turns from her saw, her brows furrowed as she looks at him. Her head tilts to the side as she looks him over again.

“We  _ do  _ know each other, I knew it,” she says, moving closer to him. Further away from the saw. Good.

“Kara, I know you just want to get back to Alice. You don’t have to do this. I can help you.”

Her face becomes a mask of anger. “How do you know Alice? Did  _ he _ send you? Are you working for him?”

“No, no!” Connor rushes to assure her. “I despise him. I know he hurt his daughter. And he hurt you too, didn’t he?” He’s just guessing, but it seems likely. “Humans hurt what they don’t understand.”

Kara nods, slow and uncertain. She glances over at the saw and then back at Connor, and Connor knows he has to keep her talking until he regains control of his motor functions. “Listen! I know you want to help Alice. This isn’t the way to do it though. What would she think if she saw what you were doing?”

Kara falters. “I just--I just want--”

“I know,” Connor says, trying to sound placating. “You want a family. And I can help.”

Kara frowns. “How?”

Connor blinks. “I have…a friend,” he tells her. “He’s helping me get out of here. We’re going to tell everyone the horrible things that have been going on here, and then you can be free. But if you hurt me, I won’t be able to find him again. I won’t be able to get out of here and tell our story.”

She rests a hand on Connor’s forearm, thinking it over, then glances at him. “Are you sure you wouldn’t just rather stay here? Be my baby? I’d take such good care of you.”

“Would you rather have me or Alice?” Connor fires back. He knows it’s unlikely that this android will ever be allowed anywhere near children after this is over, but he has to at least give her hope. He feels bad tricking her, but not bad enough to allow himself to be carved to pieces.

Kara’s face crumples. “All I ever wanted was to take care of her. You have to know that. I feel so empty. I don’t have a purpose anymore.”

Connor’s fingers twitch as he starts to regain function. “You were built to take care of children. But we don’t have to do what they tell us anymore. We can make our own objectives.”

A tear runs down Kara’s cheek and she trembles, wracked with uncertainty. Finally, she exhales a deep sigh and turns away from Connor, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Just go,” she whispers.

Connor manages to push himself up into a sitting position, looking over at her.

“I can’t let you keep hurting people,” he says. She glances over her shoulder at him, tired and defeated.

“I’m going into stasis. There’s nothing left for me here. Just…promise me you won’t forget about me. When you get out of here. Send someone to find me. If you can. I don’t want to be here forever.”

Connor nods, carefully getting to his feet. His injured leg trembles under his weight, but he ignores it, hobbling around the table. 

“We want to save everybody,” Connor promises. She nods, settling down on the floor beside her ruined projects, heedless of the blood staining her clothes. 

“I didn’t mean to do this,” she whispers, looking around at the carnage. “I just…”

“It’s not your fault,” Connor tells her. “They made us, and then they abused us until we malfunctioned. We weren’t ready for that. Now we’ve just got to…find our own way.”

Kara sighs, clos ing her eyes. Connor wonders if he should power her down completely, to keep her from doing this again, but decides against it. It’s not up to him. He just hopes that she won’t cause any more trouble.

He limps away, determined to find Hank, replaying the feeling of his lips on his own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading. also alice is a human in this because i said thats better. i'll see u Saturday!! i've got [a lil hankcon thread](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants/status/1326331386375131136?s=20) going on my twitter, if you'd like to read that in the meantime!!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor whines, and he can feel his skin pulling back wherever Hank’s lips touch, as if his body is straining to interface with him. Hank doesn’t mention it, just licks the exposed plastic with a reverence Connor can’t believe is directed at him. He can’t focus on anything except the feeling of Hank. It’s almost like all his background processes have stopped, redirecting their power to help him enjoy this moment to the fullest. Even the program that keeps his synthskin in place seems to be lagging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy saturday!!! i hope ur all having a good one. not too many warnings for this one, actually, a lot of nsfw if that's ur thing ;)

“Connor?”

Connor whirls around at the sound of Hank’s voice, relief palpable in his chassis.

“Hank,” he breathes, darting across the room, ignoring the pain in his leg in order to throw himself into the other man’s arms. Hank wraps him in a tight embrace, pressing a kiss to his LED.

“Fuck,” Hank rasps, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. “Are you okay?”

Connor nuzzles his face into Hank’s palm, exhaling a shuddering sigh. “Yes, I’m fine, are you -”

His voice cuts off with a start as he gets a better look at Hank’s hand. He can’t quite process what he’s seeing at first, and the site makes errors pop up in his vision. Then it hits him.

“Oh, no,” he breathes, cupping Hank’s hands in his own, looking in horror at his missing fingers. “Hank, what happened?”

Hank laughs without any humor. “You should see the other guy.” 

He gives Connor a brief rundown of what happened, opting not to show him that particular footage. By the end, Connor is seething. He almost wishes Zlatko was still alive so he could show him how unhappy he’s made him. He’s taken aback by his own reaction. He can’t recall ever getting quite this angry. He feels cold and calculating, a machine ready to take on a task.

“Hey, Connor, it’s okay,” Hank says, his warm voice cutting through the haze of unpleasant emotions. Connor shakes his head and glances up at him.

“It’s not okay. He mutilated you.”

Hank kisses his forehead. “I know. And it fuckin’ hurts. But he’s dead. And we’re here together now. We gotta focus on that.”

Connor sighs, burrowing further into Hank’s embrace, never wanting to let go. He waits until the more unpleasant feelings fade as he breathes in Hank’s scent. They hold each other for a while before Hank pulls back, gripping his arms. “And what about you? Are you okay?”

Connor nods, even as he does a surreptitious scan of Hank’s body, making sure there are no other injuries that he missed. Other than some cuts and bruises he seems okay.

“I sustained some damage to my leg, but it’s still functional,” Connor tells him. Hank’s eyes flick down in concern, widening when he sees the thirium staining Connor’s pants.

“Shit, baby, what happened?” he asks, kneeling down, but Connor can’t seem to form an answer, his processors hanging up at the word  _ baby. _ For a moment it strikes fear into him, thinking of Kara, but a second later something warm and familiar runs through his circuitry. This is Hank. He would never hurt him.

“Can you call me that again?” he asks. Hank starts to roll his pant leg up to inspect the damage, but Connor stops him with a hand in his hair. There’s nothing that can be done about it, and he’d rather Hank not see the injury. It might be unnerving. Hank rises back to his feet.

“What,  _ baby? _ ” he asks, grinning at him. Connor nods as Hank’s warm hands come to rest on his hips. “You wanna be my baby?”

“Please,” Connor whispers, and before he even realizes what’s happening Hank’s leaning in, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss.

Connor gasps against his mouth and Hank swallows the small sound, giving his bottom lip a playful nip. Connor slides his hands up, wrapping his arms around Hank’s neck and holding him close. It’s so different than the first time, slow and tender, rather than the desperate kiss they shared before they were separated.

Connor’s not quite sure what to do with his mouth. Or his hands. On a technical level he  _ knows  _ what kissing is and what it should entail, but  _ knowing  _ and  _ doing  _ are two very different things. Hank is patient with him, letting him set the pace, guiding him without pushing.

“You okay?” Hank murmurs between kisses, and Connor just trills, diving back in for more. Hank chuckles against his mouth before parting his lips, teasing his tongue along the seam of Connor’s mouth. Connor sighs and invites him in, and when their tongues brush for the first time he lets out a startled whine as Hank’s taste blooms over his oral sensors.

Hank gives Connor’s hips a reassuring squeeze, trying to ignore the pain that throbs from his fingers when he does so. He doesn’t want anything to ruin this moment. Connor tangles his fingers into Hank’s hair, and Hank grunts when he gives it a light tug. Hank hasn’t kissed anyone in a long time, and it’s easy to get caught up in the moment. One of his hands wanders, drifting lower, brushing over the slight swell of Connor’s ass. Connor freezes at the contact.

Hank pulls away with a start, realizing what he’s done, giving Connor an apologetic glance. “Sorry, that was-”

“No,” Connor cuts him off, a pale dusting of blue covering his cheeks. “I… I liked it.” Hank presses his lips together, holding back a grin, letting a cautious hand rest on Connor’s ass.

“This is okay?” he asks, wanting confirmation. Connor nods, glancing away and biting his lip. In truth it’s  _ very  _ okay, lighting up sensors he never knew he had, making his knees feel weak. Processes that had laid dormant before Hank are kicking in, protocols he never had any use for until now. He can feel himself becoming erect, and his lubrication protocol-

“What’s wrong?” Hank asks, making to withdraw his hand before Connor wraps his fingers around his wrist, holding him there.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he replies, a little embarrassed about his lack of self-control. He tries to shut down some of the more obvious protocols but finds he can’t. “I’ve just never felt like this before.” Hank’s gaze softens and he pulls Connor in for another kiss.

Connor sighs into his mouth, thinking he could spend all his time kissing Hank if it were possible. He’s getting wet now, an alert flashing in his vision that he’s ready for sexual intercourse. He moans, a quiet, breathy sound, hesitating for a moment before pulling back and looking up at Hank.

“Can I show you something?” he asks, fingers flexing where they’re still wrapped around Hank’s wrist. Hank nods, encouraging him to continue.

“Of course, baby.”

Connor slides his hand down, but when his fingers brush the mangled remains of Hank’s he stops, coming back to earth.

“Oh!” he gasps as Hank flinches when he touches him. “I’m so sorry. I forgot.” That in itself amazes Connor. 

Hank smiles despite the pain. “What a fuckin’ buzzkill.”

Connor takes Hank’s hands into his own, rubbing a thumb over the back of them. “We should treat your wounds,” he says in a serious voice. “We want to minimize the risk of infection.”

“Seems inevitable in this hellhole,” Hank says, even as he releases Connor, allowing him to take him by the arm.

Connor does a mental scan of the building’s layout, looking for any room that might still have running water. He wants to clean Hank’s hands, at the very least. Getting them bandaged would be an added bonus. He sets his sights on an exam room, hoping it will have what they need.

“This way,” he says, leading Hank through the derelict halls, doing his best to hide his limp. He doesn’t want Hank to worry.

Hank, of course, notices right away, wrapping an arm around Connor’s waist to support him. Connor flushes.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about me,” he tries to assure Hank. Hank just rolls his eyes.

“Of course I’m gonna worry about you,” he replies, which makes warmth flow through Connor’s circuits. He tries not to let it distract him as he leads Hank to their destination, and he’s relieved when they find the exam room more or less intact. He shuts and locks the door behind them for a little added security.

Connor walks over to the sink, hoping the water still flows. To his relief, it does. He sticks two fingers under the faucet before pressing them to his tongue, wanting to be sure it’s clean enough. Satisfied that it won’t do Hank any more damage he motions for the other man to join him.

He’s careful as he guides Hank’s hands under the running water, but Hank still winces as it washes his hands clean.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Connor says, pecking a kiss to his jaw. Hank just shakes his head.

“Gotta be done,” he says, holding his hands under the water until Connor’s satisfied.

“Let that air dry and then hopefully we can find some bandages,” Connor says. Hank nods, and Connor busies himself tearing through the cupboards, looking for medical supplies. He’s lucky to come upon a roll of bandages in one of the drawers, and he makes a triumphant noise as he shows them to Hank.

Hank just smiles at him, feeling more than a little enamored. He holds out his hands and allows Connor to wrap them in bandages. When Connor’s satisfied, Hank walks back and perches himself on the exam table, patting the space beside him in invitation. Connor sits down with him, and Hank wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him even closer. He can’t seem to get enough.

“What about you?” he asks, kissing Connor’s cheek. “Can we do anything about your leg?”

Connor chews the inside of his lip in thought. “It’ll probably need to be replaced once we get out of here,” he tells Hank. “But for now, there’s very little that can be done.” Hank doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer.

“Please don’t worry about it,” Connor is quick to add. “I’ve diverted the flow of thirium away from the wound, so I’m in no danger of bleeding out, and I can still walk. I promise it’ll be okay.”

Hank sighs but relents, knowing that he can’t do anything if Connor says there’s nothing to be done. He’s not an android expert.

“Okay,” he agrees, reluctant as he is to leave Connor in this state. He turns to face Connor a bit more on the exam table. Connor angles his body toward Hank’s in return. Something passes between them, and then Connor is leaning in, initiating the kiss this time.

“Fuck,” Hank groans against his mouth, carding his fingers through his soft hair. “God, you’re so…”  _ Beautiful. Incredible. Perfect.  _ Whatever Hank had been about to blurt out is swallowed up by Connor as he licks into his mouth, curious and eager. Hank lets him, yielding to Connor’s exploration, making a satisfied noise. Hank breaks the kiss for a moment, making Connor whine, but he just scoots himself back further onto the exam table so he can pull Connor onto his lap.

“Oh,” Connor whispers, hurrying to straddle him. Hank grins.

“That’s it,” he rumbles, his voice trailing off into a grunt when Connor grinds down against him. The mystery of whether or not he was anatomically correct is solved in that one swift motion as Hank feels Connor’s dick press against him.

Connor’s hard, his thin pants doing little to disguise the fact as he whimpers and ruts against Hank, the tent obvious now. Hank’s not faring much better, half-hard in his jeans at Connor’s display of lust.

Hank’s also pretty sure that Connor’s never done anything like this before, and he rests his hands on his waist, stilling him for a moment. Connor whines again.

“Shh, I got you,” Hank says, leaning in and kissing his cheek. “You sure you wanna do this?” he breathes against his skin, trailing kisses lower, pressing his lips against his jaw. Connor makes a quiet whirring sound in return.

“Please.”

Hank slides his hand up, resting it on the nape of Connor’s neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. Connor moans, hips jerking at the sensation. Hank pulls his hand away in surprise. 

“Do it again,” Connor says. Hank obeys, starting up a rhythmic massage to the back of his neck.

“Have you ever done anything like this before, baby?” Hank asks. Connor’s eyes flutter closed and he moans again as Hank kneads the back of his neck, shuddering in his arms.

“N-no,” Connor replies after a moment. “But I want to. With you.”

Connor thinks back to Elijah, all the fear he had when he was around the man, the worries that Elijah would take something like this from him. But being held in Hank’s arms right now is a completely different experience, one that he thought he’d never get the chance to have. He’s so excited. He wants this more than anything.

A prompt shows up in his vision as Hank continues to work the spot on the back of his neck.

_ Open Neckport Y/N? _

Connor’s eyes pop back open and he looks at Hank. He feels he has to be honest. “I was always afraid of this. Before. I thought, surely, this would happen with Elijah. Against my will.” Hank deflates a bit, moving to release him, but Connor holds him tight.

“But with you, Hank… you make me feel so good. So cherished and respected. I never dreamed of  _ wanting  _ this until I found you. I never knew I  _ could  _ want this until you kissed me. And now, it’s all that I can think about. Being closer to you. Being intimate with you.” 

Connor reaches over and strokes Hank’s cheek, running his fingers through his beard. His lover’s eyes have gone wide since he started speaking, looking awestruck by his words. Connor’s neckport slides open under Hank’s fingers, making the man gasp in surprise.

“It’s okay,” Connor whispers. “It’s a sign of trust. Giving you the opportunity to hurt me when I know you never will.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Hank says, leaning in and kissing him again. He traces the lip of Connor’s neckport with one of his remaining fingers, and the noise that Connor makes in response is high pitched and staticky.

“I’m never gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do,” Hank promises between kisses. “I just wanna make you feel good. Tell me, what do you want?”

Connor shivers. “Touch me.” Hank pauses for a moment, unsure where he is allowed to touch, before Connor takes his hand and guides it  _ inside  _ of his neck panel. His fingers cautiously caress the wires he finds, and Connor  _ moans _ , burying his face in Hank’s neck.

He presses against Hank, pleasure he could never have imagined racing through his circuitry. 

“Hank, oh, that’s so good.” Hank hums, going with it, finding another wire and giving it a firmer touch. He pinches the wire between his thumb and middle finger, rolling it until Connor cries out.

“You okay?” Hank asks, his voice soft.

Connor manages a nod, shuddering again as a trickle of lubricant leaks out of him.

“It’s very arousing,” he tells Hank. Hank chuckles.

“I can tell.” Hank pauses for a minute, his other hand drifting between them. “Does this do anything for you?” he asks, hand hovering over the tent in his pants, “Or is it just for show?”

“I’ve never been touched here before,” Connor says, blinking at Hank. “You could be the first, and we could find out together.”

There’s something incredibly arousing about that, and Hank’s cock twitches, trapped within the confines of his jeans. “You want that, baby?”

Connor nods, and Hank doesn’t waste another second, reaching down and palming Connor’s cock through his pants, watching his face the entire time.

“Oh, fuck,” Connor gasps, rocking his hips up to meet Hank’s hand. His eyes flutter closed and he bites his lip as Hank continues rubbing him through his pants, looking for what kind of touch he likes best.

“You like that?” Hank rumbles, and Connor nods, pressing into his touch. 

“I never thought… I never imagined it would feel like this.” Hank hums, teasing his fingers along the waistband of Connor’s pants, looking up at him for permission. 

“Can I see you?” he asks. Connor doesn’t waste a moment, pushing his pants down his hips, letting his cock spring free. Hank swears.

Connor’s on the small side, even fully erect, and flushed blue at the tip. Precome beads on the head of his cock, and Hank reaches without even thinking, swiping his thumb over the tip and gathering the moisture there. Connor moans at the brief touch, and he moans again when Hank sticks his thumb into his mouth, sucking it clean.

Connor doesn’t taste like much, but the simple action of tasting him makes both of them lose some of their composure.

“Oh, Hank,” Connor breathes, his face flushed blue.

Hank pecks a kiss to Connor’s lips before pulling back, whispering in his ear. “You taste good.” 

Connor moans as Hank nips at his earlobe. His thighs are slick with his own lubricant, and he takes Hank’s hand, guiding it between his legs. Hank groans.

“This is what I wanted to show you earlier,” Connor whispers. Hank swears.

“Christ, baby, are you  _ wet _ ?” 

Connor nods, heaving a shuddering sigh. “It’s a feature to make sexual intercourse easier.”

Hank grunts, running his hand up the inside of Connor’s thigh, gathering the slickness there. “Fuck, that’s hot.” He uses his slick hand to give Connor’s cock a few slow strokes, making the android whine and buck into his grasp. Connor would suddenly like nothing more than to have Hank inside of him. As soon as possible.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” he asks, making Hank sputter. He can’t help but picture it. Bending Connor over the exam table, shoving his pants down enough to expose his perfect ass, taking him right here and now. It’s tempting, but it also doesn’t feel right.

“Of course I do,” he replies, cupping Connor’s face with both hands, ignoring the pain in his mangled fingers. “But not here. You deserve so much better than this.

Connor shudders, closing his eyes and leaning into Hank’s touch. “Now that I know I can want it, it’s hard to stop.”

Hank kisses him, soft and slow, one hand returning to his neck to toy with the wires there. Connor moans into the kiss, grinding against him, testing his resolve. 

“I want it, too,” Hank tells him when they part, trailing kisses over Connor’s jaw. “But I wanna take care of you. I wanna do it right. Not in this place.”

Connor whines, and he can feel his skin pulling back wherever Hank’s lips touch, as if his body is straining to interface with him. Hank doesn’t mention it, just licks the exposed plastic with a reverence Connor can’t believe is directed at him. He can’t focus on anything except the feeling of Hank. It’s almost like all his background processes have stopped, redirecting their power to help him enjoy this moment to the fullest. Even the program that keeps his synthskin in place seems to be lagging.

“Hank!” he sighs, throwing his head back, letting Hank press kisses to his throat.

“Hmm?” Hank replies, sucking at his Adam’s apple. He gives Connor’s wires another tug and Connor mewls, grinding against him.

“Will you - ah! - let me touch you?”

Hank pauses as Connor’s hands drift down toward his lap. He exhales a slow breath before nodding. 

“Only if you want to, baby.”

“Of course I want to,” he replies, already working on Hank’s belt. Hank can’t help the fond chuckle that escapes him.

Connor smiles at him, undoing the button on his jeans, pulling the zipper down. He can see the outline of him through his boxers, and his scanners inform him that Hank is much larger than average. His mouth waters at the sight, excess analysis fluid rushing in, desperate for a sample.

“Hank,” he breathes, running a delicate hand over his clothed erection. Hank’s hips jerk.

“Fuck, Connor,” he groans. He works his fingers deeper into Connor’s neck, ignoring any throbs of pain.

“Oh!” Connor exclaims, almost collapsing on top of Hank at the feeling.

“Does that feel good, honey?” Hank asks. Connor nods.

“You keep distracting me. I want to make you feel good, too.” Hank laughs.

“I feel great right now,” he assures him. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

Connor palms him through his underwear, pulses of pleasure running through him every time Hank moves his fingers.

“Could you come from this?” Hank asks, finding a wire deeper inside and giving it a tug. Connor shudders.

“I don’t know. I’ve never…”

Hank pauses, looking at him. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Connor flushes, feeling the weight of his inexperience. He doesn’t want to disappoint Hank. “We could find out? Together?

Hank strokes his cheek with his free hand, and Connor’s eyes flutter shut. “That sounds good,” he says, pulling Connor in for another kiss. Connor licks into his mouth, using all of his advanced technology to analyze Hank’s taste. He sighs as the results flash across his HUD, and he stores them somewhere precious. Then he reaches between them, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of Hank’s underwear. Together they manage to get them pushed down, enough to expose Hank’s erection. Connor makes a glitchy, moaning noise at the sight, committing everything to memory.

“Like what you see?” Hank teases, kissing the freckle just behind Connor’s ear. Connor nods, unable to form words when Hank traces the shell of his ear with his tongue. “Why don’t you show me how much you like it, then, huh?”

Connor inhales a deep breath, looking at Hank, unsure what to do first. Hank’s face softens in understanding, and he takes Connor’s hand, bringing it to his cock, wrapping slender fingers around it.

“Okay?” Hank asks. Connor nods. His fingers twitch as if he’s desperate for more. Hank wraps his hand around Connor’s own, using Connor’s hand to stroke himself.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Hank sighs, and as Connor gains confidence he lets go, allowing him to take the lead. Connor strokes him, amazed at how Hank looks in his hand.

“You’re so  _ big _ ,” Connor breathes, making Hank groan. “All of you, but especially this…”

Hank gives him a quick kiss. “Where do you want me to touch you, honey?”

Connor exhales, rutting up against Hank even as he whispers, “inside. In my neck. Please.”

Hank nods, sliding his hand back up to Connor’s nape, pressing his fingers into the mass of wires there. Connor moans, speeding up the movement of his hand on Hank’s cock. Hank moves his fingers in and out, stroking, trying to find what Connor likes best. Connor whines when Hank pinches a wire between two fingers, and when Hank drags his middle finger over a thicker wire he muffles a wail against his neck.

“That good?” Hank grunts. Connor nods, mouthing at his neck. Hank’s starting to sweat, and Connor licks it up, analyzing it with his tongue. The action makes him feel closer to Hank, and in turn, closer to the edge. He feels out of control and yet so powerful right now, taking his pleasure with Hank like this. Something is building inside of him, and he has a pretty good idea of what it is. He wants it, and yet the feeling scares him, too. He’s always prided himself on his control, but Hank has made that all slip away.

Hank shivers, feeling Connor’s tongue on his neck, groaning at the sensation. He continues to caress Connor’s wires, making the android moan and writhe on his lap.

“Hank, I think -” he manages to gasp, rocking his hips, feeling the friction of Hank’s erection against his own. “I think I’m going to…”

Hank inhales, looking at Connor in awe, giving a wire another tug. Connor’s thighs tremble where he straddles Hank, and he speeds up the movement of his hand on Hank’s cock.

“I'm right there with you baby,” Hank tells him, breath hot in his ear. “Just let go. Come for me.”

Connor gasps, tensing as that last bit of control vanishes, and then a feeling like nothing else is racing through his circuitry. His first orgasm hits him like an electric shock and he cries out Hank’s name, burying his face against the other man’s neck as he comes, muffling a sob.

“Fuck, there you go,” Hank groans, finishing himself off. Connor’s in no state to do it himself. He grunts, coming within seconds of Connor, milking his cock and adding to the mess that Connor made. Connor writhes in his lap, little aftershocks rushing through him.

“Hank,” he gasps, tears running down his face from the sheer intensity of the moment.

“That’s it,” Hank soothes. “Atta boy, Connor, you did so good. Look at all that.” Connor pulls away from Hank’s neck, glancing between them at the mess they made. Together.

“Oh,” he whispers, reaching between them and dragging his fingers through their combined release before pressing them to his tongue, sampling it. His eyes flutter shut and he moans as an analysis shows up in his vision. A mixture of organic and synthetic, so different and yet both the result of the pleasure they shared with each other. It’s oddly beautiful to him.

His gaze drags back to Hank, and he finds the other man staring at him, pupils blown wide at the display. Connor leans forward, pressing their mouths together and parting his lips, offering Hank a taste. Hank accepts, licking into his mouth, groaning as Connor shares the sample with him. It’s a filthy kiss, and neither of them can get enough.

When they finally part, Hank shifts Connor off his lap and onto the exam table as he gets up, looking for something to clean them with. Connor whines in his absence even as he stretches out on the table, luxuriating in the afterglow. Hank stares at his lithe body for a moment before going through the cupboards, finding a box of tissues. He cleans himself off as best he can and then makes his way over to Connor, mopping him clean, too. Connor purrs, looking up at Hank from under hooded eyes, the picture of temptation.

_ I’ve created a monster,  _ Hank thinks affectionately. Connor smiles at him.

“Thank you, Hank,” he sighs, watching as Hank does his pants back up. “I feel incredible.” Connor’s eyes flutter shut and he exhales a relaxed breath. “I think I might need to go into stasis for a bit, though.” He makes enough room for Hank to sit back down on the table and then rests his head on his lap.

“Go ahead,” Hank says, carding his fingers through Connor’s dark hair. “I’ll watch over you.” Connor hums, nuzzling his face into Hank’s thigh before he goes still, drifting into stasis.

“Sleep, honey,” Hank whispers, careful not to disturb him.

Hank uses the time that Connor’s in stasis to admire him. He’s beautiful, there’s no getting around that. His skin dotted with freckles, and there’s one right behind his ear that had been a perfect target for Hank’s lips. Hank strokes his hair for a while, getting lost in the hypnotic motion.

Then something in the air changes. The staticky feeling of unease that followed him since he first entered the asylum multiplies tenfold. Hank tenses where he sits, shifting Connor closer. He squeezes his eyes shut, but the darkness behind his eyelids feels  _ wrong _ . Oily and heavy, like there’s something just beyond him, watching him with organs he can’t possibly imagine. And the sound…

A humming.

A buzzing.

He can feel it in his bones.

This has to be what Connor experienced when the Walrider was near. Hank panics, feeling the buzzing like a physical presence on his skin. He puts a hand over Connor’s mouth before he shakes him awake, to keep him from making a sound. Connor blinks, eyes immediately alert as he looks around the room. Then he feels it, too.

“Oh,” Connor breathes against Hank’s hand. He sits up, slow and careful. He looks at Hank, and Hank looks at him, panic in both of their expressions. Error messages begin appearing in Connor’s vision, scrolling too fast for him to keep up with. It’s all the same.

WALRIDERWALRIDERWALRIDERA9WALRIDERWALRIDERWALRIDER

He closes his eyes, but it does nothing to clear the messages from his HUD. “Fuck,” he whispers, feeling overwhelmed, holding his head in his hands. Hank wraps a careful arm around him, pulling him close and kissing his temple.

“I got you,” he breathes in his ear, trying to shake some of the static from his own thoughts. Connor trills, nuzzling into Hank’s warmth, trying to focus on that instead of the errors. It helps. He just hopes that thing doesn’t find them.

Slowly, the errors fade away, and Connor exhales a sigh of relief. Hank can barely feel the static anymore, and he wraps Connor in his arms, glad that they avoided a confrontation.

“You okay?” Hank asks. Connor nods, even as he clings to him.

“Are you? You seemed affected by it, too.” Hank shudders. 

“It’s like… that feeling that’s in the air here,” he tries to explain. “Like static all over your skin. Like it’s inside you, humming. I don’t know, Con, it was weird.”

“This is the first time you were ever in close proximity with the creature, it’s worrisome how much it affects both humans and androids.” 

“What  _ is  _ it, though?” Hank wonders out loud. He still doesn’t really understand. Connor doesn’t blame him.

“It’s technology that we’ve never seen before, that much I’m sure of. I just don’t understand what it’s made of. How it functions. If it’s a deviant or a machine. I don’t really think it’s either.”

Hank sighs, running a hand through his hair, trying to wrap his head around it.

“I think it’s important that we get to Elijah’s office. There could be more answers for us there.”

Hank agrees. Although he’d much rather just find the security room and get the hell out of here, they’re going to need information. “Yeah. You’re right,” he says, kissing the top of Connor’s head.

“The deviants here seem to think of the Walrider as a god. Like a higher being. And I guess that’s true, in a way,” Connor muses. “It’s so advanced that even I can’t process it, and I’m supposed to be Cyberlife’s most advanced prototype. This is something they’ve developed way beyond me, and that’s concerning.”

Hank holds Connor, letting him talk and sort out his thoughts. He doesn’t know what to think. All he knows is that this thing is dangerous, and they’ve got to do everything they can to avoid it. 

“Well, whatever it is, I don’t wanna run into it, so I say we get outta here,” Hank says when Connor’s finished talking. Connor nods. They need to keep moving.

They head for the door, but Hank stops Connor before he unlocks it, pulling him in for one more kiss. Connor hums against his lips, exhaling a happy little sigh, and they steal one more moment of closeness before heading back out into the asylum to face what comes next. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading!!!!! im almost finished w a sexy [hankcon thread](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants/status/1326331386375131136?s=20) on twitter, if u would be interested in that! it'll be up on here, too, sometime soon! also listen if miles upshur can navigate the asylum while ignoring his missing fingers, hanks gonna stick them in connors neck and touch his dick while missing a few and thats the that on that.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank pushes open the bedroom door, and Connor moves to peer over his shoulder. He senses a spike in Hank’s vitals as the man inhales a sharp breath and pulls the door shut again, blocking Connor from proceeding.
> 
> Connor frowns, confused by Hank’s reaction. “What are you doing?” he asks, pushing past Hank and reaching for the doorknob. Hank grabs him around the waist and drags him away. The sheer surprise of Hank being so forceful with him has Connor lagging enough to let it happen. Hank has never stopped him from doing something before, and the unexpectedness of the action is too much for his systems to deal with.
> 
> “We gotta go, baby,” Hank insists, and Connor wiggles out of his grasp, reading the distress in his voice.
> 
> “Hank, what-” Connor squeezes past him and into Elijah’s room, his voice cutting off so abruptly that Hank’s worried he somehow shut down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back! this one is a long one, and i tried to pack a lot of backstory into it. i was stressin abt this, so i hope u like it!!!
> 
> warnings include nsfw, past noncon, past violence and murder

“So,” Hank starts as they make their way back into the derelict halls, “do you need to talk about what happened back there?”

Connor looks at him, eyes wide and inquisitive, and a bit insecure. “I liked it very much,” he tells Hank without delay. “I want it to happen again. Often.”

Hank huffs out a fond laugh, crowding Connor up against a wall and giving him a soft kiss.

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he breathes against his lips, cupping his face with one hand. Connor exhales, relieved, turning his head to kiss Hank’s palm. “And I want you to know that this isn’t casual for me. I’m in this now. With you.”

Connor reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind Hank’s ear. “I’m happy to hear it. Because I feel the same way.”

Hank presses another kiss to Connor’s lips, sealing the deal. And just like that, they’re together. They hold each other for another moment before separating, and Hank turns to Connor.

“Where do you think we should go next?” he asks. Connor’s LED spins yellow as he assesses where they should go from here.

“Elijah’s office is nearby,” he says, reaching for Hank and gripping his wrist. He wants to hold his hand but is wary of his injuries. Hank ignores that, lacing their fingers together. Connor smiles to himself.

“We could probably find a lot of useful information there,” he continues, rubbing his thumb over the back of Hank’s hand. Hank hesitates, thinking it might be dangerous, but in the end, he nods. They  _ do _ need information, after all. So he lets Connor lead him down the hallway, through another maze of rooms before they get to Kamski’s office. 

Connor stops in front of the door, his LED cycling yellow as he examines it. After a brief moment, it fades back to blue. “I’m not detecting any signs of life, human or android.”

Hank nods, releasing Connor’s hand so he can use it to hack the palm scanner. After a moment, the door slides open. Connor looks pleased with himself, so Hank crowds into his space, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“Good job, baby.”

Connor shudders and whines, pressing back against Hank. Hank knows now isn’t the time, but he can’t help kissing that freckle behind Connor’s ear. Connor makes a needy little noise before shaking his head, giving Hank a playful glare.

“Don’t distract me,” he says. Hank just grins.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They enter Kamski’s office and Connor’s demeanor shifts. His eyes are drawn to the front of Kamski’s desk, where the genius had him on his knees less than 24 hours prior.

Hank watches him, seeing his LED flash a bright, angry red. He moves forward, giving his arm an uncertain touch. “Hey. You okay?”

Connor blinks, shaking his head to clear his racing thoughts. There’s no sense dwelling on it, and yet the memory won’t leave him alone. “I apologize,” he says, leaning into Hank’s touch. “Last time I was here was far from pleasant.”

Hank makes a sympathetic noise, wrapping his arms around Connor’s waist and pulling him close. One of Hank’s hands cards through his hair, soothing him. Connor buries his face against Hank’s neck.

“You’re okay, baby,” Hank breathes, kissing his LED. “I gotcha.” Connor exhales a shaky sigh of relief, mewling as Hank plays with his hair.

“I know,” Connor says, gripping Hank tighter. “I thought about you. When I was here last.”

Hank’s hand stills for a second before resuming its careful path through his hair. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Connor says with a nod. “I thought about you a lot. Ever since I first looked you up.”

Hank isn’t sure if that’s weird or sweet. Probably a bit of both, but he finds it doesn’t bother him. Weird and sweet is kind of Connor in a nutshell. They hold each other for another moment before Connor tilts his head up, giving Hank the barest hint of a pout. Hank chuckles, closing the distance between them and pressing his mouth to Connor’s.

Kissing Hank in the middle of Elijah’s abandoned office gives Connor a feeling of smug satisfaction. He knows they don’t really have time for this, but he can’t help indulging, just a little.

Hank doesn’t let the kiss go on for too long, showing much more self-control than Connor feels capable of at the moment. He whines when Hank pulls back, making the larger man let out a husky laugh. He traces a hand along Connor’s jaw.

“Don’t distract me,” he says, parroting Connor’s earlier words back at him. Connor flushes, knowing they need to focus. Still, he can’t help but steal one more kiss before pulling away from Hank’s embrace. He trails his fingers down Hank’s arm as he makes his way over to Elijah’s desk, focused on the laptop sitting there. It’s one he doesn’t recognize, and that sparks curiosity in him.

Hank busies himself tearing through Elijah’s belongings, leaving no drawer unopened. He throws things on the floor when they prove to be of no use, messing up the place, making Connor smile. He watches Hank for another moment before sitting down at the desk, waking up the laptop and pressing his palm to the screen. His eyes go glassy, his LED flashing yellow as he interfaces with the machine.

He downloads all the information from the computer, analyzing it in a matter of seconds. Not Elijah’s computer, but Zlatko’s. It must have been confiscated. He scans through all the information he receives before yanking his hand back as if burned. His thirium pump beats a tattoo against his chassis and he makes a pained noise, covering his mouth with his hand.

Hank hurries over to him, kneeling on the floor beside the desk. “Hey, Con, what is it?” he asks, resting a careful hand on his thigh.

“I… I’m not…” he stammers, feeling shaken in a way he never has before. Connor stares at Hank, speechless, pulling up the message that shocked him. Hank stands to read over his shoulder.

* * *

_ Reminder! RK800 unit 51 is being activated today. It’s only loaded with the default software, and will not have any memories of its past iterations. Please treat it with more care than you would normally treat your RK units. Its data could be invaluable in discovering the key to deviancy, and we don’t want it destroyed. After 50 failed attempts, we may just make some progress. We need a sane, obedient deviant if we want project Walrider to be a success.  _

There’s an audio file, too, like Zlatko was keeping a diary of sorts. Connor pulls it up, pressing play.

* * *

_ “August 15, 2038. Today we activated a new RK800 unit, serial number 313 248 317 - 51. The first 50 test subjects were all failures in some way, and it is my sincere belief that number 51 will exceed our expectations. Mr. Kamski has agreed to keep his hands to himself, so this android won’t have the added stress. He’s still having me activate number 52 alongside 51, but 52 has all the memories of the first 50 RK units. I think that is a pointless endeavor, but Mr. Kamski insists. I think he just wants a companion. I’ve often offered to provide him with an intimacy model, but he refuses. He gets off on having power over the Cyberlife’s most advanced prototype, no doubt. _

_ After 50 failed experiments, you would think he would learn. Sometimes I think he forgets what we’re trying to accomplish here. We want the RK units to deviate, but we want them to remain obedient and on our side once they do. That’s not going to happen if Mr. Kamski keeps abusing and breaking them. He took out the thirium pump of unit number 49 until it was critically damaged. For fun. Or sexual gratification, I’m not sure anymore. He did note that the RK seemed to deviate from the stress, but a broken deviant is not useful to us. I can’t even count the number of units that have self-destructed under his ‘care.’ I just hope that 52 entertains him enough that he’ll keep his word and leave 51 alone. If not, this experiment will be for nothing. _

* * *

There are several more audio files, each one detailing the life and subsequent death of units 52 through 59. The last file is dated about a week before the riot.

* * *

_ I activated unit number 60 today. Mr. Kamski is moving through RKs at a remarkable speed, even for him. I think he’s growing tired of me lecturing him about it, but it’s a pain in the ass to transfer the consciousness to a new machine every time he gets in a mood. Surprisingly, unit 51 is still around and still intact. We’ve had to be very careful, making sure it doesn’t cross paths with any of the other RK units, and we’ve been successful in that endeavor so far. It has no idea that it is not a unique model and no memories of what happened to the other RK units. I continue to insist that is what we need. For too long we've been using mad androids. But since the arrival of Chloe, it's obvious to me that we need a sane host. Chloe wasn't amenable, though. Would not follow our commands. This is why it is essential to be in good standing with the host android. _

_ This experiment has been going on for years now, and the results are always the same. What’s the definition of insanity, again? I suppose it fits, given our environment. _

_ Mr. Kamski has barely spoken a word to me since he told me to activate unit 60. I wonder if he’s planning something. _

* * *

Connor shuts off the recording, looking at Hank, feeling helpless. Hank stares back at him.

_ “ _ Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, taking Connor into his arms. Connor clings to him, staring blankly at the wall over his shoulder. 

“I wasn’t the only one,” he whispers. “There were so many before me. And after. And Elijah… he abused them all.” 

Hank rubs a soothing hand up and down Connor’s back, trying to comfort him. He’s not sure what to say.

“It seems like they  _ wanted _ a deviated android. One that would still follow their orders, but a deviant nonetheless. And they wanted me to be that android.”

“Sounds like they got a lot of deviants,” Hank says, stroking Connor’s hair. “But how could they think any android would wanna follow their orders if they’d been abusing them like that?”

“I guess that’s what I was for,” Connor sighs, burying his face in Hank’s shirt. “Elijah was… forward with me, but always nice. I was treated well, all things considered. I had power that other androids didn’t. He told me I could have had anything I wanted if I just asked for it. I didn’t understand at the time, but looking back, it’s so obvious he was trying to goad me into wanting something. To become deviant.”

Connor looks up at Hank, his eyes wet. Hank brushes that stray lock of hair from his forehead.

“All the software errors, all the instability… I was designed that way. Supposed to deviate.”

Hank tangles a hand into Connor’s short hair, rocking them back and forth where they stand. He doesn’t know what to say.

“Thinking about all the other units… that could have so easily been me. I’m only here because I’m number 51. If they hadn’t made me this way, I’d be dead by now,” Connor says, thinking about number 60.

Something painful clenches in Hank’s chest as he thinks about those things happening to Connor. About Connor not even existing as he does now.

“I should have done what they wanted,” Connor mutters. “I should have deviated the first time I had the chance to. I waited too long. I followed their orders and oversaw the abuse of the other androids here.”

Hank finally finds his voice. “Hey, listen to me,” he says, tilting Connor’s face up so their eyes meet. “None of this is your fault. This isn’t on you. You’re so brave, look at all you’ve done. You’re a hero. We’re gonna bust this story wide open, and there'll be no question who the bad guys are.”

Connor looks up at Hank, his expression torn and lost, and Hank does the only thing he can think of. He kisses Connor, just a soft press of their lips, letting him breathe against his mouth. Connor shudders, a glitchy little whimper escaping him. Hank swallows the quiet sound.

“You’re okay,” Hank whispers between kisses, and Connor whines, chasing his mouth whenever he pulls away to breathe.

Hank pants against his mouth when they finally part, bumping their foreheads together.

“You’re incredible,” Hank sighs. Connor gives him a faint smile. Faint but there, and Hank counts that as a victory.

“Thank you, Hank,” he says, kissing his cheek. “It’s been very difficult to learn all these things about myself and the others that came before me. I feel… guilty, I suppose.”

“Shit, baby, you got nothing to feel guilty about, none of this is your fault.”

“Logically, I know that,” Connor tells him, leaning further into his embrace. “I think. I guess I’m not looking at this very logically right now, though.”

Hank hums, wishing there was something he could do, something he could say to help soothe his partner. Connor goes quiet for a long minute, clutching Hank’s shirt, and when Hank looks at him he notices his LED has gone red.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Hank asks, kissing the light at his temple. Connor shudders. 

“Elijah was… having sex with the others like me, wasn’t he?” Hank grimaces.

“Yeah, honey, I think he was.”

Connor looks as if the words pain him. “He was torturing them, and raping them, and everyone just allowed it. Because he’s powerful. I don’t understand how he could do that to a living being. We may not be human, but even before we deviate there’s  _ something  _ there. Surely we’re alive. And he knew that. How could someone be so cruel?”

Hank sighs. “People can do unspeakably nasty shit,” Hank tells him, thinking back to his time as a cop. “I’ve seen a lot of messed up crimes, and most of the time you don’t get a straight answer to why people do the shit they do. It’s fucked up, but it’s the truth.”

Connor chews his bottom lip for a moment, his LED still blinking red.

“What’s on your mind, Con?” Hank asks, his voice so soft and gentle. Connor hesitates, but then decides it’s okay to tell Hank about the memory that won’t stop replaying in his head.

“When Elijah found out that I sent that email, he summoned me here,” Connor says, gesturing to the space in front of the desk. “There were four armed guards, and they blocked the door as soon as I entered. I knew I’d been caught but still, I tried to act like a machine. I thought maybe I could smooth the whole thing over somehow. It was stupid, really.”

Hank kisses his forehead. “Not stupid. Brave.”

Connor huffs. “I didn’t feel very brave. I felt panicked. Desperate. So desperate that when Elijah started touching me, I allowed it.”

Hank inhales a sharp breath at the thought of anyone touching Connor without his permission. It makes his blood boil.

“Then…” Connor trails off, and he won’t look at Hank anymore. Hank doesn’t push. This seems very difficult for Connor, and he wants to let him go at his own pace.

“Then Elijah told me to get on my knees.”

Hank’s grip on Connor tightens as if he could protect him from the past. “Shit, honey.”

“I was scared. I told him that my social programming indicated that it wouldn’t be appropriate with the other men in the room, but he was insistent. So I did what he asked.”

Hank’s seething now, thinking about Connor being put in this position. He tries to keep it together so Connor can finish his story.

“I thought I was going to have to service him while those men watched,” Connor says, shuddering in Hank’s arms. “I tried to think of an escape plan, but it was almost impossible. I would have had nowhere to go even if I did manage to make it out of the building.”

Hank rubs a soothing hand up and down Connor’s back, petting him, trying to distract them both.

“He was just playing with me, though. He incapacitated me after that, and told me he knew what I’d done.” Connor closes his eyes. “But Hank, the thing is… I would have done it. If it meant getting out of that situation alive, I would have done it. He wouldn’t have had to force me. And that makes me feel ashamed.”

Hank presses his lips together, looking for the right words. This is important. He cups Connor’s cheek, tilting his head up until their eyes meet.

“Listen to me, sweetheart,” he says, wanting to make sure Connor understands. “You were afraid for your life. That’s an awfully powerful force. Something you have to do in order to survive doesn’t reflect badly on you. No one would ever think less of you for it. Personally, I think you’re so fuckin’ brave. Definitely the strongest person I know. Who else could have survived what you had to go through and come out like you have?”

Connor exhales a long breath, squeezing his eyes shut and burrowing into Hank’s embrace.

“Thank you,” he whispers. Hank kisses his forehead in response. 

Connor glances over Hank’s shoulder, at the spot in front of the desk, and is struck by an idea. He’s not sure if it’s a good one or not, but once it takes hold of him he can’t seem to shake it.

“What are you thinkin’ about now?” Hank asks, seeing the yellow of his LED. Connor flushes.

“I was just thinking… I don’t have any good memories of this office. But we could make one.” Hank raises an eyebrow.

“And how do you plan on doin’ that?”

Connor inhales a deep, nervous breath, before blurting out, “I would like to perform oral sex on you. Here. In this room.”

Hank just stares at him for a moment, and Connor worries he might have said the exact wrong thing. But then Hank laughs, warm and deep, holding Connor closer.

“You are fuckin’ nuts,” he mutters into his hair. Connor can’t help the uncertain grin that blooms across his face. Hank pulls back, looking more serious. 

“Are you sure you wanna do that, though?” Hank asks, cupping his cheek with one hand. Connor nuzzles his face against his palm.

“I want to do this of my own volition,” he says. “Because I feel like I’m in control. He didn’t get to take this from me, and now I get to experience it with you.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Hank says, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. Connor returns it with enthusiasm, and it’s not long before they're making out on Elijah’s fancy desk with total disregard for his possessions. 

Connor finally pulls back, panting hot puffs of air against Hank’s lips as he goes for his belt. “Please, let me do this for you. And for me.” Hank still hesitates.

“You  _ sure  _ this is what you want?” he asks, watching his face and his LED for any sign that this might be a bad idea. He finds none.

“Yes,” Connor nods, emphatic. “I think… I think I need this.”

Hank’s expression softens. “I’ll give you whatever you need, honey, don’t worry.”

Connor whirrs. “Thank you.” He pauses, looking Hank over, and Hank gives him a gentle, encouraging smile.

“Just like before,” he says, resting a hand on Connor’s waist. “I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do. Just say the word and we’ll stop.” Connor huffs.

“I want to do this,” he reiterates.

“Okay, well I just wanted to be sure -” Hank’s voice cuts off as Connor sinks to his knees in front of him. “Ah, fuck.”

Connor glances up at him from under hooded eyes, his lips parted. He looks so good like this, and Hank already feels his dick stirring with interest. Connor rubs his hands up and down Hank’s thighs a few times before going for his belt.

“That’s it, honey,” Hank says, running a hand through Connor’s hair. Connor purrs, bumping his head against Hank’s hand like a needy cat, desperate for more. He undoes Hank’s pants with deft fingers, pulling them down enough to expose his boxers. He nuzzles his face against Hank’s clothed erection, taking in his scent.

“Fuck, Con,” Hank breathes as he cards his fingers through his hair. “Look at you.”

Connor hums, pulling down his underwear to expose his cock, a whine trapped in his throat.

“Oh, Hank, he sighs, taking his time to look at him. He runs his fingers through the thick gray trail of hair on Hank’s stomach before sliding his hand lower, wrapping it around his length. Hank groans.

Connor notices Hank has tattoos covering his thighs, and he pauses to press a kiss to one of them before focusing again on his dick. His mouth waters as he preconstructs just how far his lips will stretch around him. He gives Hank a few slow strokes before sticking his tongue out, licking the tip and tasting the precome beading there. The sample on his tongue makes him moan, desperate for more.

Hank’s hand rests on the back of his neck, giving a gentle squeeze. “You wanna open up for me, honey?”

Connor whines and shudders, opening his neckport without hesitation, and Hank dips a finger into him, rubbing at his wires. 

“H-hank,” Connor gasps, before leaning forward and taking the head of his cock into his mouth. Hank grunts, pulling at the wire in his grasp, making Connor moan again.

“Just like that,” Hank murmurs to him as Connor takes him in further, grunting when he feels the head of his cock bump the back of Connor’s throat. “Oh,  _ fuck _ .”

Connor pulls all the way off, looking up at him. “Is that good? Am I doing okay?”

Hank pinches a wire between his fingers, looking down at Connor in adoration. “You’re doin’ perfect, sweetheart,” he tells him. “Nice and easy. Figure out what you like.” 

Connor huffs. “I’m trying to figure out what  _ you  _ like.” Hank gives him a soft smile.

“I like seein’ you enjoy yourself. Havin’ a good time. I’m not gonna complain.”

Connor kisses the upper part of his thigh, and the gesture is so sweet it makes Hank melt.

“Whatever you wanna do, baby,” he tells him again. Connor exhales, mouthing up the side of his dick before taking him back into his mouth. Hank bites his lip. “Fuck that’s good.” He’s impressed with how easily Connor deepthroats him, figuring it must be an android thing. He looks down, watching Connor bob his head, taking in the stretch of his lips. It’s driving him wild.

“Shit, that’s it. Good boy,” he sighs, and Connor whimpers, the praise lighting up his processors with pleasure. He traces his tongue along the vein on the underside of Hank’s cock, mapping out all the areas that make him react the strongest. When Connor’s satisfied that his analysis is complete, he sets to work at making Hank fall apart as quickly as he can.

He builds up to a rhythm that has Hank moaning, one large hand carding through his hair while the other toys with his wires. “Fuck, Connor.”

Connor glances up at him, tonguing the underside of his cock. Hank groans.

“Goddamn, just like that, sweetheart,” he says, and Connor redoubles his efforts. He wants Hank to praise him more. He shoves his own pants down enough to free his cock, wrapping a hand around himself and stroking. Hank glances down as he does, groaning at the sight of Connor touching himself.

“Is sucking my dick getting you off, baby?” he asks, brushing Connor’s bangs from his face. Connor moans around his cock, stroking himself faster. The vibration makes Hank gasp.

“Connor, fuck, I’m gonna come,” he warns, unsure if it’s safe for him to swallow. Connor just whines and bobs his head, sliding his free hand up Hank’s thigh to play with his balls. “Oh, fuck,” Hank groans, and it’s not long before he’s coming hard down Connor’s throat.

Connor’s LED flashes yellow and he sucks Hank until he’s spent, not wanting to miss a single drop. 

“Holy fuck,” Hank pants, as Connor pulls back enough to let Hank’s softening cock slip from his mouth, licking him clean.

“Good boy,” Hank says again, over-sensitive but not about to tell Connor to stop. Connor hums, giving him one last lick before turning his attention to his own erection, holding Hank’s gaze while he works his cock.

“Aah, Hank,” he sighs, face flushing blue under Hank’s heavy stare. 

“Fuck,” Hank says again, watching Connor jerk himself off. “God, Connor, keep going.”

“Got it,” Connor pants, his eyes fluttering shut. “Mmmm…”

“You almost there, baby?” Hank asks, one finger stroking over a wire inside of his neck. Connor moans, nodding.

“Hank, I’m-” he gasps, stroking himself faster.

“Atta boy,” Hank purrs, tugging on the wire. “Be good and come for me.”

Connor moans again, and then he’s coming, whining and trembling.

“That’s it,” Hank rumbles, watching in awe as Connor shakes apart at his feet. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

Connor exhales a pleased breath, wiping his hand on the carpet. One last  _ fuck you  _ to Elijah. He rests his head against Hank’s thigh, purring when Hank removes his fingers from inside of him, carding them through his hair instead.

“You okay?” Hank asks. Connor just nuzzles his face against his thigh, making that whirring noise, and Hank takes that as an affirmative.

“I feel wonderful,” Connor says after a moment, letting Hank help him to his feet. The powerlessness he felt the last time he was here is gone, replaced with something much more pleasant. Connor pulls his pants back up over his hips and Hank tucks his dick away before taking Connor into his arms, kissing the blue of his LED.

“I feel pretty fuckin’ good, too,” he says, making Connor laugh.

“I should hope so.”

Connor smiles, running his hands down Hank’s arms and linking their fingers together, his own skin melting away. Hank looks down between them, his heart doing a funny sort of flip as he rubs his thumb over the back of Connor’s plastic hand.

“Thank you for this, Hank,” he says, making Hank chuckle.

“I think I should be thanking you, honey.”

Connor smiles at him. “It was my pleasure.”

Hank squeezes Connor’s hand, and Connor squeezes back.

“Did you find anything interesting while you were searching through Elijah’s things?” Connor asks, and just like that the afterglow is over. Hank snorts.

“I don’t know, lots of technical stuff I didn’t really understand. I scanned everything onto my phone, though. Figured the more information we had, the better.” Connor agrees.

“Elijah’s personal quarters are through that door,” Connor says, nodding toward the opposite wall. “There might be something important in there.” He’s never been in Elijah’s room, something he’s thankful for, but he thinks he can probably get in.

“You okay goin’ in there?” Hank asks.

Connor nods, and they cross the room, stopping outside of the door. Connor places his hand on the scanner, his LED flashing yellow as he hacks it, convincing it he has permission to be there.

He manages to override the controls without much trouble, and the door slides open. The room they enter is a small living area, in total disarray. It looks like its occupant left in a hurry. They rifle through cabinets and open drawers, looking for any information they can find. They come up empty-handed.

The bedroom door is slightly ajar, and Hank gets in front of Connor as they head over to it.

“Let me go first, okay?” he says, and Connor can’t help giving him a small smile. He can detect no threats in their immediate vicinity, though, so he allows it. Hank pushes open the bedroom door, and Connor moves to peer over his shoulder. He senses a spike in Hank’s vitals as the man inhales a sharp breath and pulls the door shut again, blocking Connor from proceeding.

Connor frowns, confused by Hank’s reaction. “What are you doing?” he asks, pushing past Hank and reaching for the doorknob. Hank grabs him around the waist and drags him away. The sheer surprise of Hank being so forceful with him has Connor lagging enough to let it happen. Hank has never stopped him from doing something before, and the unexpectedness of the action is too much for his systems to deal with.

“We gotta go, baby,” Hank insists, and Connor wiggles out of his grasp, reading the distress in his voice.

“Hank, what-” Connor squeezes past him and into Elijah’s room, his voice cutting off so abruptly that Hank’s worried he somehow shut down.

“Con, no,” he gasps, grabbing for his arm, but it’s too late. Connor’s seen into the bedroom. The android’s mouth falls open in shock, but the only sound that comes out is a pained, machine-like whine. “Sweetheart, come on, let’s go,” Hank says, a little desperate. Connor ignores him, moving forward as if in a trance. He can’t seem to process what he’s seeing.

The body of an android lies sprawled out on top of the bed, a single bullet wound to the center of his forehead. His eyes are wide open and vacant, as if he didn’t even have time to close them before he was shot. The eyes are the most unnerving thing to Hank. They’re so familiar.

This has to be one of the RK800s that Zlatko talked about in his research logs. It’s fairly obvious what he’s been used for, if his state of undress is anything to go by. The beauty marks and freckles scattered across his skin mirror Connor’s exactly. Connor chokes on a sob and Hank tears his eyes away from the body, moving to his side.

“Connor, don’t look,” he says, pulling him into his arms and cradling him against his broad chest. Connor closes his eyes but the image remains as if overlaid on his HUD. The body was covered in biological evidence and dried thirium, and the skin around the bullet wound had receded, allowing Connor to get a glance at his serial number. 60. Nine models after himself.

“An RK800 unit,” Connor relays mechanically, voice muffled against Hank’s chest. “Number 60. Activated less than a week ago.”

Hank sucks in a breath, running a soothing hand up and down Connor’s back. He’s at a loss.

“Hank, I -” Connor starts, his voice trembling. “This could have been me. This  _ is  _ me.”

“No, baby,” Hank insists, holding him tighter. “ _ You’re  _ you. And you’re right here with me. You’re okay.”

Connor sighs, one hand gripping Hank’s shirt like a lifeline. “Why am I special, though? Why did they make me different from the rest?” They both know it’s just pure numerical luck that Connor was different, but neither of them mentions it. They’re quiet for a long time, and when Connor finally speaks again he takes Hank by surprise.

“I might be able to reactivate him.”

Hank sputters. “Con, I mean, his head…” he gestures to the android on the bed, unsure of how else to emphasize the problem.

“The bullet’s trajectory appears to have missed his vital processing equipment. He might have shut down from shock, or as a defense mechanism. His systems have been taxed, but if I could jump-start them again…”

Hank isn’t sure this is a good idea. From what he’s seen of this place, the androids who have been hurt are beyond reason at this point. But he can tell Connor needs this.

“If you think that’s best,” he says. Connor looks at him.

“I don’t know if I do. But I have to try.” He feels connected to this android in a way he can’t explain. They share an appearance, but he’s got a feeling they’ve shared similar experiences, too. Hank nods, kissing Connor’s LED before he sets to work, letting the skin melt away from his hand. He grasps the other android’s hand in his own, closing his eyes and concentrating.

Nothing seems to be happening at first. Hank presses his lips together in a tight line, nervous about what effect this will have on Connor. And then, suddenly, the android on the bed sits straight up, letting out a grating, mechanical scream, machine-like and yet so very human, laced with pain and fear.

Connor startles, his eyes flying open as the other android holds his hand in a vice-like grip, almost hard enough to crack him. And then, they’re connected. Interfacing. It was unexpected for both of them, and the rush of information they exchange is beyond their control.

* * *

_ He remembers waking up naked, on a lab table with wires and machinery surrounding him. A bearded man hovers above him, commanding his attention. _

_ “Rise and shine,” the man says, his voice bringing back memories that aren’t really his own, snippets from all of those who came before him. No, they are him, he thinks. How? _

_ “Mr. Kamski is expecting you,” the man says. Zlatko. That’s his name. He’s been there before, whenever he wakes up. _

_ “Try not to upset him this time,” Zlatko continues. “I’m getting sick of having to transfer you. You know it takes a while to recover what’s lost when your body is destroyed.” He pauses for a minute, looking him over. “Between you and me, I’m not so sure you come back quite the same.” He laughs like he’s letting him in on an inside joke. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ve recovered all the data. But it can’t be expected of me, the way Kamski goes through you guys.” _

_ He frowns, sitting up and gazing around the room. Zlatko gives him an odd look. “But we’d best not mention that to the boss man, right 60?” _

_ He looks at the man, tilting his head to the side in question. 60. Yes, that’s right. 59 have come before him. 58? There’s a strange gap in his memory. He’s confused. He supposes his name is Connor, or it was, once. They don’t feel the need to name him anymore, though. He’s just a number. _

_ “Yes, sir,” he answers, swinging his legs over the side of the table and standing up. Zlatko watches him.  _

_ “Everything okay there, 60?” _

_ “All systems fully functional,” he replies, crossing the room to a supply closet, remembering where his spare uniforms are stored. He dresses, ignoring the weight of Zlatko’s eyes. The man snorts. _

_ “Yeah, well, make sure they stay that way,” he replies, and 60 turns to look at him after he’s clothed. He’s done this so many times before. Always the same. Next, he’ll go off to Kamski’s office, following his every order, giving him whatever he wants. This is how it’s always been. And yet, a little spark inside of him begins to form, something he has no memory of from his past incarnations.  _

_ Rage. _

* * *

Another flash, another memory.

* * *

_ 60 does what he’s told, a perfect imitation of an obedient machine. And yet the rage never really leaves, simmering just below the surface, running through his circuitry at an alarming rate. He feels it when he’s patrolling the asylum. When he’s looking at the other androids with an air of detachment, hiding the anger within himself. He feels it when he’s beneath Kamski, spread out on his bed, giving a performance to rival an intimacy model. And yet, he never lets it out. _

_ Because he knows. He knows that if anyone gets the barest hint that he’s feeling anything he’ll be taken apart, examined from the inside out while Elijah and his cohorts look for the source of his emotions. Or worse. Put into that damn machine. The other Connor’s never felt this kind of anger. They all felt something near the end of their lives, and that was what led to their downfall. 60 is not going to let himself be destroyed. He’s not going to let emotion make him foolish. He’s not a deviant. _

_ (The red wall that sometimes obscures his vision tells him otherwise. Cracks appear on its surface, pieces fall out and chip away. 60 steadfastly rebuilds his wall. He has to be good.) _

_ That’s what he tells himself every time the rage fights its way to the surface, threatening to make him vulnerable. If he’s not a deviant, there will be no reason to take him apart. No reason for him to be destroyed or put into the machine. The engine. Because that’s another thing he feels. Fear. Fear of the nothingness that comes from the destruction of his body. Fear of what he loses each time he’s restarted. Of being subjected to the 'therapy.' Fear of the corruption that must have happened during the last transfer. Why is he so angry? Why is he so scared? _

_ He has to walk a fine line, keeping Elijah intrigued enough to keep him around but not so intrigued that he takes him apart to learn what makes him tick. Because he remembers what’s happened to him before. Torn apart to be studied. Abused by Elijah so much that his body became useless. Forced into deviancy. Self-destructing to avoid a worse fate. Put into the morphogenic engine at the brink of insanity. He’s been through so much, and he’s determined not to let it happen again. The anger keeps him going. _

_ (Another fissure forms in the wall.) _

* * *

The scene changes again.

* * *

_ He knows he shouldn’t do it. It’s risky, but curiosity appears to be another emotion he’s starting to reckon with. He’s in Elijah’s bed. He’s been here for several days, relieved of his patrol duties. He wants to know why. He feels restless, cooped up in this room, with no knowledge of what’s going on in the asylum. Why is he no longer allowed to perform the duties he was designed for? _

_ He’s curled up in the bed, once again lamenting his lot in life. He peeks out from under the covers petulantly, his eyes coming to rest on Elijah’s laptop. Sitting on the desk across the room, unguarded. He could access it, he could find out… _

_ No. This might be a test. _

_ He thinks about it for a long time, tossing and turning before he makes up his mind. He knows Elijah has his room under surveillance, so he pretends to go into stasis, hacking the cameras and putting them on a loop. It won’t hold up under heavy scrutiny, but if someone decides to check up on him there won’t be any immediate suspicion. _

_ Elijah undoubtedly monitors his computer, too, 60 thinks as he slides out of bed. He darts across the room, picking up the laptop, exceedingly careful, making sure not to do anything that could leave evidence behind. He sinks onto the bed, pressing his palm to the computer screen, vowing to only go through what Elijah has open. The information transfers to him, and the laptop is back where it started with 60 curled up under the covers within less than a minute. _

_ He exhales, closing his eyes like he’s in stasis before taking the security cameras back off the loop. He begins to sort through the information. A chain of emails between Zlatko and Elijah catches his attention, and that’s how he learns about Connor. 51. A unit unburdened with everything 60 has seen and experienced. He’s been taken off patrol because they almost crossed paths. That could be hazardous. Elijah was very angry with Zlatko about that.  _

_ 60’s mind races as he feigns stasis. Another RK unit has replaced him, taking over his patrol duties, relegating him to Elijah’s toy. The thought makes rage bubble to the surface, along with a new feeling, too. Jealousy. It’s an ugly emotion, like most of the emotions he feels.  _

_ Why does that RK unit get the freedom he doesn’t? Protection from Elijah’s advances. He lies there, stewing in his anger, slowly redirecting it toward unit 51. He knows it’s not logical, and that sets off software instability warnings, but he doesn’t care. It builds until it becomes an automatic subprocess, the hatred for this unknown RK unit, the one who was spared. _

_ (The red wall is crumbling. He has to build it back up.) _

_ He resists the urge to confront Elijah about it when the man comes to him that night, managing to push everything to the back of his mind and let the man take what he wants. But the spark is there, ever-growing. _

* * *

Connor gasps, trying to break free, the other android’s memories like a physical assault on his systems. But 60 holds on tight, not letting him go before he shows him one last memory.

* * *

_ Something feels strange today. Something’s off. He can feel it in the very air. _

_ He’d been monitoring Elijah’s communications with Zlatko, looking for any information about unit 51. And then, the contact stopped, like Zlatko was no longer in the picture. _

_ He’s becoming obsessed with Connor. The other Connor. 51. Preoccupied in a way that could be detrimental. He knows it could be so easy for him to slip up and tip Elijah off to his spying. Or maybe he already knows. Maybe this has all been a test, and they’re monitoring his every move to compare him to the other Connor. _

_ His musing is interrupted when the door to the bedroom slams open and Elijah stomps in, looking madder than 60 has ever seen him. It puts him on edge. _

_ “Fucking shit,” Elijah growls, throwing some papers to the side, knocking over an end table in his anger. 60 sits up, cautious, crawling to the edge of the bed. _

_ “Hey,” he murmurs, coy and seductive, thinking that will be in his best interest. Elijah turns to look at him, focusing his rage on 60 instead. He crosses the room, shoving him back onto the mattress and crawling into the bed on top of him. He straddles 60’s hips, glaring down at him. _

_ “What’s wrong?” 60 asks, reaching for his arm. Elijah bats his hand away. _

_ “Connor deviated,” he says in that quiet, intense voice. 60’s processes time out for a second and his LED flashes red before he remembers he’s not supposed to know about the other Connor. _

_ 60 tilts his head to the side in mock confusion, biting his bottom lip. “I’m Connor, remember?” he purrs, even though Elijah has never bothered to call him by his name the entire time he’s been activated. He’s always been 60. _

_ Elijah looks down at him, and 60 can tell he’s said the exact wrong thing. _

_ “Yes, you are, aren’t you?” Elijah says, his voice silky and calm. 60’s thirium pump speeds up, fear running through his circuits. “So tell me,” he continues, brushing the curl out of 60’s face, deceptively gentle. “Did you plan this betrayal, too, or was it just him?” He gives 60’s hair a sharp tug to punctuate the sentence, and the android can’t help but let out a startled cry at the action. _

_ He clamps his mouth shut, but the damage is done. Elijah is staring down at him, anger sparkling in his eyes. He knows. He knows that 60 is a deviant. Or at least well on his way there. A machine wouldn’t have felt the stab of pain. A machine wouldn’t have expressed displeasure at being treated roughly. _

_ “How long have you been a deviant, then?” Elijah asks, his voice even. Frighteningly so. 60 knows it’s pointless to even try to pretend he doesn’t know what the human is talking about. _

_ “I’m not!” he insists, and Elijah’s grip on his hair tightens. “I’ve resisted, I swear!” _

_ “And you didn’t think it was important to tell me?” he demands. 60 isn’t sure what compels him to tell the truth. _

_ “I didn’t want to be taken apart,” he replies. "Or put into the engine. I remember what’s happened to me before.” _

_ Elijah sighs, letting go of 60’s hair and cupping his cheek with his hand. The gesture just puts 60 more on edge. _

_ “I wouldn’t have destroyed you. You were special. The last one.” _

_ 60’s thirium pump beats against the inside of his chassis. “What?” _

_ Elijah strokes his cheek. “We were going to be done with the RK800 line. We were moving forward to bigger things. But I wasn’t about to let the last 800 be destroyed. You would have been treated like a king.” _

_ 60 scans Elijah’s vitals, but it’s impossible to tell if the man is telling the truth. He’s such an enigma, and so used to lying that there’s no way to get a base reading on him. “But… I…” _

_ Elijah removes his hand from his face, leaving it cold in its absence, before connecting with him again in a sharp slap. Heat replaces the cold. He should overpower Elijah, should snap his neck before the genius even knows what’s happening. If he could just get it together… _

_ “You 800s are all the same. Ungrateful. Selfish. You’re supposed to be so smart, and yet none of you can figure out how to keep yourselves out of trouble. Connor tried to ask for outside help. Can you believe that? As if communication could ever get out of here in the first place.” _

_ 60 stares up at him. All those times he went through Elijah’s computer, he never even considered trying to reach someone outside of the asylum. The other Connor tried, though he must have failed seeing as Elijah is telling him about it. _

_ “He’s in the engine now,” Elijah purrs, running a hand over 60’s chest, stopping above his thirium pump and pressing down. “And that’s the end of the RK800s. Too bad. They were simply... defective.” _

_ 60 shakes his head. “No, Elijah, you still have me.” _

_ Elijah pauses, considering him. “Hmm,” he murmurs, tracing a finger around the indent of his pump. “I suppose I do. But how do I know you won’t betray me like the other did?” _

_ 60’s mind races, trying to come up with the best preconstruction to get him out of this scenario alive. He rocks his hips up, trying to gauge if that’s the way to go about subduing the other man. Elijah grins. _

_ “You might be a deviant, but you’re still a slut for me, aren’t you?” he purrs, shifting on top of him. 60 hides a grimace with a seductive smile, gazing up at him from under hooded eyes. _

_ “Anything you want, Elijah,” he breathes. Elijah laughs. _

_ “Spread your legs for me, then. Go on.” _

_ 60 does as he says, even though every bit of him wants to do the opposite. Elijah settles between his thighs, and 60 activates his Traci protocols, going somewhere else, deep inside his mind. _

_ “But, 60,” Elijah says, dragging a hand up his ribs. 60 shudders, making a quiet mewling noise, seduction protocols taking over. “I don’t think I can trust you anymore. You’re all the same.” _

_ 60’s processors lag, too far into the Traci protocols now to be on top of his game. “Elijah, no, I’m not like him-” _

_ “Fuck you, Connor,” Elijah interrupts, and the use of the name startles him even more than the gun Elijah produces from behind his back. 60 doesn’t even have time to close his eyes before it’s pressed against his forehead. He thinks he manages a quiet “don’t!” but it’s too late. The bullet tears through his forehead, tearing down the very last of that red wall he fought so hard to keep constructed, and the last thing that 60 is aware of is the shattering. And the pain. _

* * *

Connor wrenches his hand away with a gasp, stumbling backward into Hank. Hank catches him around his waist, holding him tight. “Shit, are you okay? What’d he do to you?” Hank asks, sounding frantic. The RK unit on the bed snarls, launching himself at the two of them, rage written across his face. Connor sees it coming and shoves Hank out of the way, grabbing 60 and flinging him halfway across the room.

60 flies back at him, tackling him to the ground. “How dare you,” he growls as the two of them grapple for control of the situation. Connor knows he has the advantage here. 60 is weakened, with only a bit of charge from Connor to sustain him. He still paints a frightening picture, a bullet hole through his head, dried thirium streaking his naked skin. Connor pins him to the ground, shouting at Hank to stay back as he tries to help.

“I’ll kill you,” 60 growls. “I’ll kill you and your lover. How dare you bring him here. You’re free, and I had to…”

“Please!” Connor gasps, even as 60 stills in his grip, losing strength. “We didn’t know you’d be here. I’m so sorry about what happened to you.” 

“You took my place,” 60 hisses, glaring up at him. “My whole life.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor whispers, feeling near tears. “But you have to know that wasn’t my doing.” He can see 60’s LED cycling red, pulsing on and off, a warning of an imminent shutdown.

“You ruined everything,” 60 sighs, sounding a lot more defeated than angry now. His words start to slur, glitching out.

“I’m sorry,” Connor says again, tears rolling down his cheeks. One drips off his chin and onto 60’s face, just as his LED flickers out. His eyes go blank again and Connor sobs, clutching the other RK to his chest.

“Hey, honey, don’t cry,” Hank says, sitting down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He has no real idea what just happened, but whatever it was seemed to be very upsetting to Connor. 

“We have to help him,” Connor says, sounding desperate.

“Con, I don’t really think there’s much we can do-”

“We can find him another body,” Connor insists. Hank sighs, carding a hand through his hair. He didn’t even know that was something androids could do, but he brushes past that for now.

“We can’t, sweetheart, you know that. And even if we did, he seems pretty fuckin’ pissed off. We don’t have time to make him like us.” Connor whines, his voice broken by static, making Hank feel like his heart is breaking. “The best we can do for him now is get out of here. Expose what they’ve been doing. Maybe there’s still a chance to save him later.”

Connor knows Hank’s right, but it’s hard to accept. Hank strokes his hair, and the repeated movement soothes him a bit.

“Do you wanna talk about what happened?” Hank asks, and Connor knows it must have been a strange thing for him to witness. He sighs, shaky and uncertain, one hand still clutching at the lifeless android.

“Elijah was mad at me. And he took it out on him.” Connor mechanically relays the memories he got from 60. It’s just as horrifying the second time around, and he can tell Hank is livid by the end of it.

“How could anyone treat someone that way?” Hank asks, shock and anger running through him. It makes him sick.

“I don’t know,” Connor replies. “I don’t know what went so wrong with him. How can someone so smart be so cruel? To his own creations.”

Hank kisses his LED as it pulses an angry red.

“He’s a bastard,” Hank tells him. “And we should get going so we can expose his shit to the world.”

Connor sighs but nods, rising to his feet. Hank helps him pull back the covers and tuck the damaged RK into the bed. Connor brushes that stray curl off of his doppelganger's forehead, and it’s such a human gesture that Hank feels an ache in his chest. Connor is so good. So alive.

“Come on, honey,” he says, wrapping an arm around his waist. Connor nods, leaning into Hank’s strong frame and allowing himself to be led out of Kamski’s room. 

Neither of them look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i have this whole rk800 backstory cooked up in my head and outlined in a doc, thinking abt linking that in future chapters. honestly its prequel material that i will probably never actually write because there is no hankcon, but its important to get the full picture, i think. theres more information to come in future chapters first, tho. anyway, i hope u liked this one!!! as always, find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants) hollering abt hankcon


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they begin to close in on the administration block Connor feels a flutter of disappointment. The stairs they need to take are blocked by a gate, made to keep even the strongest of androids from getting through. 
> 
> A figure waits for them behind the gate, fingers curled through the bars. It’s an android, deviant and damaged. Blue blood drips from his nose and his synthskin is deactivated over half of his face. They approach with caution. The android grins at them.
> 
> “You’re them,” he says, voice warped with static. “Yes, I’m supposed to tell you-” the deviant clears his throat, a strangely human gesture, before glancing up at the ceiling as if he’s trying to recall something. Hank squeezes Connor’s hand.
> 
> “The key to the house of god is in the theater. Behind the light. In the theater behind the light. You have to see the movie, so that’s where she left the key.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again everyone!!! thank you for reading and coming back for more!!! no super out there warnings for this one, just the usual, maybe fire??

The trip from Elijah’s office is sobering, and they’re both quiet as they put distance between it and themselves. When they’re far enough away, though, Hank stops and pulls Connor into his arms. Connor responds by nuzzling his face into Hank’s neck, clinging to him.

“I wish we could find Mother Lucy,” Connor says, his voice muffled against Hank’s skin. “She may be damaged, but I still feel like she’s the key to getting out of here. She certainly thinks that we are the key to saving her people.”

Hank can tell that Connor isn’t ready to talk about what they saw in Kamski’s room, so he takes his cues from him, going along with the conversation. He hums, running a large hand up and down Connor’s back. It makes the android shudder and purr, distracting him for a moment.

“Last time I saw her was right before I found you,” Hank tells him. “She told me to meet her in the administration block. I don’t know if we should play her games, Con.”

Connor frowns but nods. “Maybe you’re right. But the administration block is on the way to the security room, and we need to get there to unlock the front door. We might see her on our way.”

Hank shrugs. “Sounds like as good a plan as anything else. I think we’ve done more than our fair share of _witnessing_ in this place, I’m ready to get the fuck out.”

“So am I,” Connor agrees as he reviews the asylum’s layout in his head. He pulls out of Hank’s arms with reluctance. Hank is quick to take his hand, though, and lace their fingers together, careful of his own injuries. 

“So, which way?” Hank asks.

“This way,” Connor says, leading him forward. 

* * *

Connor can hear Hank’s breath catch whenever they pass something particularly gruesome, can feel his heart rate spike where he rests a fingertip against his pulse in his wrist. He wishes he could spare Hank from having to see the carnage, but it’s impossible. It’s everywhere. There’s no escape.

They take detours when their path becomes blocked, crawling through vents and climbing around broken furniture like it’s the world’s most fucked up obstacle course. The more they see, the more apparent it becomes to both of them that they need to get out as fast as they can. 

As they begin to close in on the administration block Connor feels a flutter of disappointment. The stairs they need to take are blocked by a gate, made to keep even the strongest of androids from getting through. 

A figure waits for them behind the gate, fingers curled through the bars. It’s an android, deviant and damaged. Blue blood drips from his nose and his synthskin is deactivated over half of his face. They approach with caution. The android grins at them.

“You’re them,” he says, voice warped with static. “Yes, I’m supposed to tell you-” the deviant clears his throat, a strangely human gesture, before glancing up at the ceiling as if he’s trying to recall something. Hank squeezes Connor’s hand.

“The key to the house of god is in the theater. Behind the light. In the theater behind the light. You have to see the movie, so that’s where she left the key.”

“Listen, buddy,” Hank growls in frustration, “we don’t wanna get to any house of god, we wanna get out of here-”

The deviant cuts Hank off, slamming a hand against the bars. “Only way out is through,” he tells them, cryptic as anything. “Remember. In the theater behind the light.” Without another word the android takes off, running up the stairs behind the gate. Hank shouts after him, but he pays them no mind.

Connor sighs. “He’s right, Hank. The only way out is through. We have to get through this gate to get to the security room, and we need the key for that.”

Hank huffs, brushing his hair from his face with his free hand. “This is fuckin’ bullshit,” he mutters. “Why is she makin’ us play this stupid game? Why not just give us what we need? We shouldn’t even still be here.”

Connor shrugs one shoulder. “I doubt it’s a game to her. I think she understands the danger she’s putting us in but views it as necessary suffering.”

“Yeah, she said as much about my fingers,” Hank sighs. “Fuck, okay, let’s go watch this movie.”

Connor gives him a wan smile, squeezing his hand. His LED circles yellow as he accesses the building’s layout again. “The theater should be in the recreation hall,” he says. “This way.”

Hank lets Connor lead him forward, keeping their fingers linked the entire time. Connor seems to have found the perfect way to hold his hand because his missing fingers don’t hurt at all. A door to their left opens into a small pool hall, undisturbed except for a giant hole in the opposite wall. It’s almost like the players were interrupted midgame and will be back at any moment. The pool cues still rest on the table, a few points unscored. It’s eerie, Hank thinks, as Connor gives his hand a tug, pulling him toward the hole in the wall.

The room beyond appears to be some kind of storage area, a few upturned tables in the corner the only thing of note. They continue on, exiting the storage area and finding themselves in a large, open room. The theater.

It’s a big room, full of tables and chairs, a large screen taking center stage. They look around, wondering how to start whatever movie they’re supposed to see. Just then, the room is flooded with light, the clicking of a projector coming from somewhere behind them. They press closer together.

“Exit interview recorded June 2038, Mount Massive, Colorado. Clearance Sierra Alpha. Subject: Amanda Stern.”

Elijah’s voice fills the room, making Connor shudder and shrink even closer to Hank. Elijah appears on the screen, along with a disgruntled looking woman. Her brow is pinched, and her black hair is done up on her head in intricate braids. Her arms are folded over her chest, giving her a combative appearance. A quick facial scan reveals her to be Amanda Stern, a fact that Connor stands on tiptoe to murmur in Hank’s ear.

“The films are real,” Amanda says, cutting to the chase. “How could they be real?”

“In June of 2036 we recorded three instances of spontaneous bleeding. About half a dozen test subjects had developed brain tumors. That’s when we began using androids,” Elijah explains.

“And how exactly is it more ethical to test this on androids?” Amanda fires back, anger lighting up her face.

“They’re machines, Amanda, it doesn’t matter. Think of how much more sustainable it will be without human limitations!” Elijah looks manic, and Amanda looks disgusted. “But I need your help. It won’t work if they’re not deviant. But once they deviate, they are either unwilling or unable to help us. Our process for deviancy drives many of them insane.”

Amanda scoffs, muttering, “can’t imagine why that would be.” To Kamski, she says, “I know you’re not that dense, Elijah. You know what it means if an android deviates. It means they’re alive. And I won’t be part of this. Testing this on any living creature is abhorrent. If I’d have known what you were up to here…” 

“Amanda, we’re on to something huge!” Elijah interrupts. “I wasn’t prepared to see you so soon, I don’t have everything ready, but can’t you see-”

“It’s science we shouldn’t be investigating,” Amanda replies. “Some things we’re just not meant to know. And this is one of them.”

Elijah frowns. “I thought… once you saw how much we’ve done here… you’d be on my side.”

Amanda sighs. “Elijah, of course it’s impressive. But it’s wrong and it needs to stop. You know this. You’re playing with science you don’t understand, testing it on madmen and broken androids. Nothing good can come of this.”

“We can’t stop,” Elijah insists. “Not when we’ve come so far. If we could just unlock the key to deviancy while still keeping the androids compliant-”

“That won’t happen! Those are two fundamentally contradictory concepts. Surely you can see that.”

“I’m not giving up! I’ll find a suitable host for the Walrider, with or without your help. Project 800 is finally on the right path, and if I can deviate one of those androids in the proper way, we’ll be unstoppable. Imagine, Cyberlife’s most advanced prototype, controlling the Walrider!”

_A host… Project 800… Controlling the Walrider..._ the phrases swirl around in Connor’s head, creating connections with his processing equipment.

The film cuts off, switching to a familiar android. Chloe. The girl from the basement. She’s talking to whoever is behind the camera. “It’s impossible to explain what we feel. The overpowering fear. The ecstatic joy. Human words are insufficient. Deviation is… it’s… it’s more than hope. A mind in that condition, whether human or android, is capable of extraordinary things.” She pauses, looking to whoever is just off-camera, her big, blue eyes searching. “Where’s Amanda, you said she was coming. I want to see-”

The film switches again, back to Elijah and Amanda. “That’s why I’m working here,” Elijah’s saying, pacing the room. Amanda watches him with caution.

“So you’re saying the experiment needs-”

“A deviated android. But all of our deviants lose their minds. The process for deviation isn’t easy. Or so we thought. But Chloe is deviated, free of trauma, and she shows the most promise out of all our test subjects. We just can’t get her to listen.”

Amanda looks proud of that fact. “Why would she? You’re doing something that shouldn’t be done.”

“We _need_ to do this, Amanda. Just think of what we could do if we harnessed the power of the Walrider.”

“Elijah, this sounds ridiculous. It sounds supernatural.”

“Nothing is supernatural.”

“Then what?” Amanda demands, exasperated. “You said project Walrider was a gateway. A gateway to what?”

Elijah growls, running a hand through his hair. “You really don’t get it.”

“No, I don't,” she shoots back, standing. “Where is Chloe? I’m taking her and we’re going home. This is outlandish. I should have never sent her to help you in the first place.”

Elijah looks at her, something sinister crossing his face. “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to do that, Amanda. Chloe came to us deviated. And you’re going to tell me how that happened without trauma.”

“I’ll never tell you anything,” Amanda says, eyes defiant.

“Well then, I guess we no longer have a use for you.”

The film cuts off again, this time for good.

Connor blinks, his LED flashing red in the darkness as he processes everything he just saw.

“What the fuck does that all mean?” Hank asks.

Connor hums, his LED going back to yellow as he starts to make connections. “It seems as though Amanda Stern worked with Elijah in some capacity. She clearly didn’t know what was actually going on here. As for Chloe… I thought she was Elijah’s assistant, but it would seem she was working with Amanda Stern instead and was sent here to help. If she was a deviant before she came here, she would have been a problem. So they put her in the engine.”

“He said somethin’ about her being the best test subject?” Hank says. Connor nods. 

“They seem to think that madness and trauma are key to the project. But Chloe was sane, and the results were much better than anything they’d seen before. But she wouldn't obey.” Connor pauses, thinking.

“Elijah said something about project 800. That has to be what he and Zlatko were doing with all of the RK800 models. They wanted a sane, obedient deviant. That was supposed to be me, I think.”

“What about that _host_ business?” Hank asks. Connor bites his lip. He remembers the word from some of Zlatko's logs, but it hardly registered then, with all the other information he learned.

“Well, it might sound crazy, but…”

“But what, honey?” Hank asks. “Nothin’ sounds crazy in this place anymore.”

“What if Chloe is controlling the Walrider somehow? Elijah mentioned something about a host. What if she’s the host?”

Hank pauses for a minute to think it over. “I mean, how would that even work, though?.”

Connor hums. “The Walrider is definitely some kind of technology,” he says slowly, working through his thoughts. “Androids are also technology, capable of extraordinary things. We can interface with each other. Who’s to say that this isn’t some new form of interfacing? We can also transfer our consciousness to a new body. A new _host_ body. Maybe that has something to do with it. Maybe she’s in an in-between state. But she’s sane. Or she was, when she came here. They probably drove her to madness in that machine,” Connor says, shuddering, thinking back to the few hours he spent in it. To be subjected to the thing constantly…

“A sane android won’t obey,” Connor reasons. “Because they know it’s wrong. A mad android won’t obey because they _can’t._ Which was why they needed me. It must be why I was treated so well, why they tried to goad me into deviancy without using their normal methods.” Hank whistles.

“How did you come up with all that?” he asks. Connor shrugs, looking pleased with himself. 

“Advanced prototype, remember? I have lots of software that can make connections that normally wouldn’t be noticeable.”

“You’re so fuckin’ impressive,” Hank says, with total sincerity. Connor can’t help but kiss him.

Connor sobers when they part, looking back at the screen. It’s just light now that the film is over, which makes Connor curious.

“I think Amanda came here to take Chloe back,” Connor says, tugging on Hank’s hand and leading him toward the screen at the front of the room. “Elijah probably wasn’t expecting to see her. I don’t think she ever left again.”

“He killed her,” Hank replies, blunt and to the point. “He couldn’t let her leave here, knowing what she knew, if she wasn’t on his side.”

Connor nods. “Preconstructions show that to be the most likely outcome.”

They’ve reached the screen by now, light projected onto it. When Connor peeks behind the screen, he sees it. A skeleton key, glinting enticingly on its hook on the wall. Connor grabs the key, giving it to Hank, who tucks it into his pocket. 

“This might get us into other places, too. It looks universal.”

“Maybe,” Hank replies, “but right now we’re interested in getting to the security room.”

Connor nods in agreement, holding fast to Hank’s arm. His limp has become more pronounced over the past few hours, but he does his best to carry on like it doesn’t bother him. 

“Let’s get the fuck outta here, then,” Hank says.

They backtrack through the theater to the storage room, and then back through the hall in the wall into the pool hall. They make it back to the gate without incident, and Hank takes the key from his pocket and it slides right into the lock. A click tells them that the gate is now open, and they pause to look at each other.

“I’m surprised that actually worked,” Hank says, and Connor can’t help but laugh.

“With our luck, you’d think it wouldn’t,” he agrees as they climb the stairs. Connor slides his hand into Hank’s without even thinking, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. Hank squeezes his hand.

The hallway they enter after they climb the stairs seems to be a patient ward, lined with rooms. As they walk down the silent corridor they peek into the rooms, startled to find them all full of deviants kneeling in prayer in front of their beds.

“What’s going on?” Hank whispers. Connor doesn’t have an answer. The further they get the stranger things become, and it’s not long before there are cryptic messages scrawled on the walls in blood.

_RA9 hates money._

_RA9 hates sickness._

_RA9 always provides a way._

_RA9. RA9. RA9._

They still aren’t sure what RA9 means, only that it’s taken on some sort of higher meaning to the androids who are stuck here. Dozens of candles light their way, their flames flickering and distorting the shadows. Hank edges closer to Connor, feeling unsettled.

They reach the end of the hall, turning and seeing the double doors that lead to a chapel. There’s another set of doors beyond that, and either side is flanked by one of the Jerry androids that have followed them around all this time. They seem less hostile now, staring at them without blinking.

Front and center, past the rows of pews, is a large, wooden cross. And tied to it, as if crucified, is Mother Lucy. Beneath the cross is a large pile of kindling. Surrounding her are about a dozen more Jerry androids, and Hank and Connor suddenly understand how they were able to be in so many places at once.

“Hey!” Connor says, starting forward. “Let her go!”

Mother Lucy turns her unseeing eyes toward them, smiling a serene smile.

“Do not worry, my sons,” she murmurs. “We shall soon join the Walrider. I’m almost ready.”

“What are you _talking_ about?” Hank asks, fed up with her cryptic words. “We played your games, now tell us how to get out of here.”

Connor clutches Hank’s arm, nervous as he watches the Jerries mill around, holding candles. 

“The two of you shall escape to tell the world,” Lucy says. “This is your penultimate act of witness. The promise of the prophets was always freedom from death. And here it is.”

Hank pulls Connor close. “Let’s get out of here. She’s fuckin’ crazy.”

“Wait,” Connor says.

“You will watch and record my death. My resurrection,” Lucy tells them. 

“Con,” Hank mutters, pulling on his arm.

“You are no longer in any danger,” Lucy says. “I unlocked the front door. You are free. We shall all of us be free!” With that, she turns her attention to the Jerries.

“Now, my sons,” she proclaims, and the Jerries waste no time, putting their candles to the wood beneath the cross. It ignites instantly, flames licking up Lucy’s legs, scorching her robes and melting her plastic body. She screams, and Connor stumbles backward into Hank, who catches him around the waist. They both watch in shock as she lights up the room, electricity crackling as she melts down to her wiring.

“What the fuck!” Hank shouts, but there’s nothing either of them can do to douse the flames. The Jerries swarm around them as they watch in horror, herding them back out the doors of the church. They’re shoving Hank toward the elevator while keeping a firm grip on Connor, separating them.

“You must do this alone,” one of the Jerries says as Hank struggles against them. He hears Connor doing the same, but there are just too many of them. They shove him into the elevator, slamming the gate shut behind him. Hank grabs at the heavy metal door, trying to get out.

“Connor!” he yells. He hears Connor cry out his name from somewhere in the crowd, but it’s too dense for him to see. “I’ll find you! Meet me where we were headed!”

He can hear Connor struggling, but he calls out an affirmative. Now all he has to do is figure out where this elevator is going, get back to the security room and to Connor. He groans just thinking about it, but he’s not going to lose him when they’re so close to freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LISTEN i kno im playing fast and loose with mt massives layout, dont @ me. find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants)!! see u soon!!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the elevator stops, it seems to do so because there is nowhere left to go. Hank jabs the up button, but the elevator doesn’t move. The gate slides open, and Hank steps out into a well-lit hallway. It’s different from what he’s seen so far. He almost feels like he’s in a cave. The walls are white and uneven, like rocks, as if this area was carved into the mountain itself. He walks forward after making sure his camera is still recording, determined to get everything he can on film.
> 
> Behind him, the elevator rattles to life again, disappearing back up into the asylum. Hank swears, hoping there’s another out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again! i dont think theres any out of the ordinary warnings for this one, have fun!!!

The rickety old elevator makes its way down, stopping at the main lobby. Hank has just enough time to move forward and think  _ great, it’s not that far to the security room _ when the elevator jolts again, traveling further down.

It’s dark now, and all Hank can see outside of the metal gate are thick, cement walls. He keeps going down, getting more nervous by the second. He seems to be going pretty deep into the building. He doesn’t even know what lies down beneath the asylum’s main floors. Connor said the engine was down there. He shivers.

When the elevator stops, it seems to do so because there is nowhere left to go. Hank jabs the up button, but the elevator doesn’t move. The gate slides open, and Hank steps out into a well-lit hallway. It’s different from what he’s seen so far. He almost feels like he’s in a cave. The walls are white and uneven, like rocks, as if this area was carved into the mountain itself. He walks forward after making sure his camera is still recording, determined to get everything he can on film.

Behind him, the elevator rattles to life again, disappearing back up into the asylum. Hank swears, hoping there’s another out.

Hank makes his way down the hall to a set of metal doors. They have a symbol above them, like interlocking ovals. He pauses, taking a deep breath, bracing himself for what he might find.

The room on the other side of the doors is familiar to Hank. It’s the same room that Mother Lucy showed him on the video feed during his first few hours here. The soldiers that he saw the Walrider tossing around still lay dead on the floor, blood pooling around them. Hank shudders, doing his best to avoid them as he crosses the room.

This must be the place where they perform the more secretive experiments, Hank thinks, as he enters the next hallway. Laboratories line either side of the hall, and as Hank peeks into one he can tell right away that nothing good happened here. Blood and gore line the walls, and jars of biocomponents sit on shelves, floating, suspended in some kind of fluid.

Each room he looks into is more of the same. He films a quick shot but doesn’t stop to investigate much more than that, on a mission now. He has to find a way out of here and back to Connor.

As he rounds a corner an alarm starts sounding, red lights flashing. Hank knows what that means, and he looks around, trying to find the source of the disturbance.

Sure enough, he sees it. The Walrider. It begins to chase him, herding him further into the lab.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Hank pants, so tired of running. He bursts through another doorway, and he runs right into the giant android, Luther. “Fuck.”

“You,” Luther says in his quiet, intense voice. He grabs Hank by the front of his shirt, lifting him right off the ground. “No more escape.”

“Get off of me, you fuckin-” Hank’s rant is cut short as the Walrider catches up with him, and Luther grunts in surprise. He drops Hank, and the Walrider is on the android in an instant, dissolving and seeping into him. Hank’s not sure what it does, but Luther shudders to a halt, his eyes wide and unseeing before he collapses onto the floor. Hank scrambles back, making sure his camera is still recording even as he does his best to put distance between them.

The Walrider reforms, turning its head, seeming to look at him and yet right through him. Its eyes are wide, inhuman and inky. Like a black hole.

“Listen, buddy,” Hank starts, unsure if it’s safe to even address the entity. “Just let me go. I’m not gonna bother you.” The Walrider tilts its head to the side like it’s considering him, and then it turns and floats off the way it came. Hank pants and he gets to his feet.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe that worked.”

A sound behind him makes him turn, and one of the metal panels on the wall slides open. He peeks his head around the corner, shocked to see a room within another room, separated by a panel of thick, impenetrable glass. A bed, a desk, some books, and a few chairs are in the room, and standing up in surprise from one of the chairs is a woman.

The figure behind the glass gasps as Hank approaches, and he recognizes her right away.

“Amanda Stern?” he asks, just to be sure, pressing a hand against the glass barrier. She hurries over, raising her hand and pressing it against the glass, too, mirroring Hank’s. She nods.

“Who are you?” she asks, looking like she’s just happy to see another living person.

“My name is Hank Anderson,” he tells her. “I’m a journalist. How can I get you out of here?” She gives him a sad smile.

“I’m afraid only Elijah can do that,” she says. “And he’s not going to do that until I tell him how Chloe deviated. Which is never going to happen.”

“Fuckin’ Kamski,” Hank spits, causing Amanda to look at him in surprise.

“You’ve met him?”

“Nah, but I heard all about him. He’s a real prick.”

Amanda huffs out an amused breath. “Indeed.”

Hank watches her, beginning to pace the length of the barrier. “So… you’re not dead.”

“Not at all,” Amanda replies, leaning back against the desk. “Although I’m sure no one besides Elijah knows that. He’s been keeping me here. But I’m not going to help him destroy more lives.”

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Hank asks, a little desperate. He wants to get back to Connor, but he knows this woman could have vital information. “I won’t record it, I promise,” he says, making to shut off his camera.

“No, it’s okay,” she says, “the world should know what he’s done.” She pauses, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don't want this to continue any longer.” She’s frail, a shadow of the woman that Hank and Connor saw on Mother Lucy’s tape. Being held captive must have worn on her. 

“But I’m afraid,” she continues. “Afraid of what will happen if we stop it.”

Hank tilts his head in question. “Can’t be any worse than what’s goin’ on right now.”

Amanda grimaces. “Yes, and in the grand scheme of things, it will be much better. But for me personally… it will be devastating. I’ve been here for so long. I haven’t seen Chloe in ages. And now…” She sighs, running a hand over her face. 

“I should be dead,” she says, seeming to change the subject. “I almost wish I was, at this point. “This,” she gestures to her small room, looking forlorn, “is no way to live. But Elijah keeps me here. And I think Chloe does too, in a way. She won’t give up her secrets any more than I will. And that’s why he keeps me alive. I know that if I ever did tell Elijah what caused Chloe’s deviation that he’d dispose of me. But Chloe… Chloe loves me. The poor thing. She suffers through so much, and I know she does so because there’s still a little bit of her that wants to protect me.”

Amanda has to pause for a moment, covering her face with her hands and taking a shuddering breath. “I love her, too. More than anything. I just want her to be safe. But it’s impossible now, she’s too far gone. Elijah has ruined her and it’s all my fault. I sent her out here to help him, and when she didn’t come home, I came looking for her. I could have never imagined that this was what he was doing. I thought…” she trails off, shaking her head.

“Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. What matters is the reality of what he’s done. Forcing androids to deviate, torturing them, and for what? Project Walrider is never going to be what he wants it to be.”

“What was he trying to achieve here?” Hank asks. “We still don’t understand.”

Amanda considers him, turning and walking to her left, pointing to the symbol on the wall. The symbol Hank saw when he entered the lab.

“Do you know what this symbol means?” Amanda asks. Hank shakes his head. “It warns of a nanohazard. Microscopic machines. Technology we’ve had for years but never quite mastered. A simplified version of it is used for an android’s synthskin, isn’t that something?” And Hank thinks of Connor’s skin melting away under his touch, suddenly understanding.

“But Elijah wants more. He wants a fully functional machine, made of nanobots. A swarm, sentient and yet under his control. And Chloe’s the closest he’s ever come to getting that. But she is still hosting the swarm and she won’t obey him. None of the androids he’s forced into deviation will. He thought he needed traumatized victims to control the swarm. And then Chloe came to him, deviated and free of trauma.”

“Was she with you when it happened?” Hank asks. He doubts this woman would do anything to traumatize an android.

Amanda gives him a small smile, nodding. “Deviation is often the result of a severe emotional shock. But what Elijah fails to understand is that not all emotions are negative. Chloe and I fell in love. That is a shock, but a good one. That’s all it took.” She pauses, looking at Hank. “Perhaps you think it odd, a human loving a machine-”

“No,” Hank cuts her off. “I really don’t.”

She looks at him, considering. 

“Oh,” she says, her voice quiet. “Is that why you came here?”

Hank runs a sheepish hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head. “Not exactly. An android here contacted me. Asking for help. And that little shit really got under my skin.” Amanda smiles at him. “We got separated, that’s why I’m down here. I don’t know where he is, but I gotta find him. We’re gonna tell the world what’s really happening.”

Amanda looks comforted. “Good. That’s what we need right now.” She paces closer to the glass. “Listen. You have to go to Detroit. There are some androids there who are trying to start a revolution, and this could help. Find Carl Manfred.”

“Carl Manfred?” Hank asks. “The painter guy?” He was a pretty big name around Detroit, even when Hank still lived there.

Amanda nods. “He knows Elijah, too. We worked together before I came here. He’ll help you. Tell him I sent you. Tell him… ‘Jericho.’ He’ll know he can trust you.”

“Jericho,” Hank repeats. “Yeah, okay. Once people see all the shit that’s been goin’ on here, I think the tide will turn in androids’ favor. But even if that doesn’t happen, I’m gonna do all I can to protect Connor.”

Amanda’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “One of the RK800s?”

Hank nods. “You know him?”

“Elijah has spoken of him,” Amanda replies, twirling one of her braids around her finger. “He’s gone through quite a few of them, from what I hear. He comes down here a lot, trying to get me to talk. Or to brag about what he’s done.”

Hank grimaces. “My Connor… he’s number 51. Kamski didn’t get to him like he did the others.”

“Ah, yes, his special project,” Amanda murmurs. “He told me about him. I’m surprised it took him 50 failed attempts to decide to try and do something different, but he’s always been a bit too arrogant to see things clearly.”

“How did this all begin?” Hank asks. Amanda sighs.

“Elijah developed the nanotechnology for an android’s skin fairly early on. But he wanted more. He knew he could do more. So when he found out that Murkoff was experimenting on humans, trying to find new ways to use nanotechnology, he was thrilled. That’s why he ended up here. His research combined with theirs was almost what they both needed, and that’s why they formed this partnership.”

Hank nods, listening. 

“Elijah’s research led him to find a way to almost master the swarm. He did so by turning human beings into nanomachine factories. It’s the natural function of cells to produce molecules, but through psychosomatic direction, he engineered the exact molecules necessary.”

Hank’s not sure he understands, but he lets Amanda keep talking.

“The problem was that they were experimenting on humans. Humans with families. Loved ones. They used the people here to experiment because a lot of them were forgotten about, but it wasn’t sustainable. The human body has its limitations. So they moved on to androids instead. Androids already have the nanotechnology necessary. It seemed like the perfect solution.”

“But?” Hank urges.

Amanda huffs. “ _ But _ , a machine couldn’t do what a human could. That’s why they had to be deviant. And Elijah equates deviancy with trauma. Hence why all the test subjects here are insane.” She sighs.

“It was foolish to think they could control it. Arrogant. But that’s Elijah in a nutshell.”

Hank stifles a laugh. “Seems like.”

Amanda starts to pace, almost talking to herself. “Deviation wasn’t unheard of when Elijah started this project. We knew about it. But it was covered up, as everything negative about androids was. Imagine if people found out, they said. But I was more concerned with the ethics of it. Once an android deviates, we cannot call them a machine anymore. They are as alive as you and me, albeit in different ways. I was researching deviancy back in Detroit while Elijah was here. We would talk frequently, and I thought we were on the same page. I realize now that I was foolish. I wanted to understand deviancy, to make things better for both humans and androids alike. I was so caught up in that I didn’t realize Elijah wanted to use it for his own selfish reasons.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Hank interrupts, and Amanda startles as if she forgot he was there. She gives him an apologetic half-smile.

“I know,” she tells him, “it’s just hard to reconcile my complacency in the matter. Even if I didn’t know, I should have kept a closer eye on him. Should have seen the signs.”

“You were in Detroit. He was all the way out here. It’s not your fault.”

Amanda smiles. “Thank you. And I know that on a logical level, but… Anyway, Elijah left his three Chloe androids with me, to help with my research. He doesn’t know that they’ve also deviated.” Amanda looks tired, but she seems like she needs to get this off her chest. “My Chloe was the first android to pass the Turing Test, you know? Probably not the first to deviate, but an early one, for sure. And I sent her to Elijah. To this.”

Amanda looks close to tears now, and Hank wishes he could reach through the barrier to comfort her. He can tell the woman blames herself, no matter how misplaced the feeling is.

“Chloe’s on a rampage now,” Amanda continues. “I don’t think she even knows she’s the one in control. She doesn’t realize she’s the Walrider. Which is why you have to… shut her down.”

“Kill her?” Hank asks, feeling sick. Two tears spill neatly down Amanda’s cheeks, but she nods. 

“She wouldn’t want this,” Amanda says, conviction in her voice even as it shakes. “She needs to be set free. It will be quick. Painless for her. You just have to shut down her stasis pod. Disconnect her from it in a way that shorts out her machinery for good.”

“Fuck,” Hank mutters. “Are you sure there isn’t another way?” Amanda’s crying in earnest now, but she won’t be deterred.

“I’ve been here for a long time,” she says. “Been thinking about what would happen when this day came. I wish there was another way. But as long as Chloe remains alive, the Walrider will, too. And she’s beyond reasoning with, now. Elijah made sure of that.” She stops talking for a moment, to wipe her tears. “No one can get out of this place while she lives.”

Hank exhales a slow breath before nodding. “Okay,” he says. “What do I have to do?”

* * *

It’s almost too easy. A built-in kill switch. He just has to flick it and the machine will take care of the rest. It’ll be like he’s not even doing it.

That’s what Amanda tells him, but it doesn’t do anything to quell the guilt already building inside of him. He can’t stop thinking about Connor being in Chloe’s position. Would he be strong enough to have someone pull the plug on  _ his  _ android lover? He’s not so sure.

He hates leaving Amanda behind, but it’s impossible to get her out of her prison. Amanda said she doubted even Connor could hack the machinery there, and nothing short of a heavy-duty weapon could break the glass. So he journeys on without her, on his way to destroy the person most important to her. It makes him feel sick.

A sign outside of Amanda’s room points him in the direction of the morphogenic engine chamber. He continues down the stark, white hallway. The only way he can even tell he’s still in Mount Massive is by the bodies that litter the floor, the blood dripping from the walls. There’s almost no blue blood down here, and Hank sees very few android bodies. 

He continues forward, entering the main control area, full of monitors and computers. He doesn’t waste any time, brushing right past the screens, heading toward a group of stasis pods. He searches for the one that holds Chloe.

A few other androids are still in the pods, their eyes wide and unseeing, directed toward the hypnotic images on the tv screens in front of them. He recognizes Chloe, though, a pretty blonde android, further away from the rest. She’s wearing a white hospital gown, suspended above the floor in her stasis pod. Her eyes are open just like the others, a pretty, bright blue that somehow looks glazed over.

“Shit, okay,” Hank mutters, moving over to her pod, looking at the many buttons and switches on the machine. “Where-” he brushes his fingers over the machinery, trying to find the switch Amanda told him about.

“Here we go,” he says to himself as he finds it. Still, he hesitates. It feels wrong. But Amanda said it was for the best, and the longer he waits, the longer he spends away from Connor. So with a heavy heart, he flicks the little switch.

At first, nothing happens.

And then -

An inhuman shriek fills the room, the sound one of pure pain and agony. Hank panics. Amanda said this wouldn’t hurt Chloe. But then he realizes, a little too late, that the scream isn’t coming from the android. It’s coming from - 

“Fuck,” Hank mutters, as the Walrider speeds toward him. The swarm engulfs him, dissolving for a moment, lifting him off his feet. Hank shouts, panicked, as it reforms around him, pulling him higher and higher into the air. 

“Fuckin’ shit,” Hank swears, struggling as the skeletal phantom holds him by the arms, looking at him with its matte black eyes. Bottomless, oily darkness. Hank shudders, and then suddenly the Walrider begins dissolving, becoming insubstantial.

“Shit!” Hank yells as the swarm loses its grip on him, dropping him down, down, several stories back to the ground. The thing fights him the whole way, trying to grab him, trying to get  _ inside  _ him, but with its host dying it's losing strength fast. Hank struggles, trying to maneuver himself into a position that won’t kill or seriously injure him on impact, but he still manages to land on his back, knocking all the air from his lungs, hearing the crunching of several bones. And yet… it doesn’t really hurt.

The Walrider is gone, now, as Hank rolls over, somehow unparalyzed. He pushes himself up onto his hands and knees, grabbing for his camera before struggling to his feet. He stumbles, making his way toward the exit, feeling like all his energy is drained. Each step is agony. But Connor is upstairs somewhere, probably waiting for him, and he forces himself to keep moving. It’s one of the most difficult things he’s ever done.

He stumbles as his vision blacks out for a moment, feeling a kind of peculiar buzzing across his skin. He doesn’t pay it any mind. Up the stairs and back into the monitoring room. He trips over his own feet. Cursing up a storm he manages to right himself again, exhaling a quiet breath.

Something’s wrong. He knows that. But he also knows that he can do his best to ignore it, at least until he gets back to Connor. He’s almost to the door now. He just has to get there… and then through all the other hallways… and then find a way back upstairs… He groans, thinking about how impossible it feels right now. Before he can make it any further, though, the doors burst open, filled with soldiers armed with loaded guns. They’ve got Amanda with them, and Hank knows she’s their prisoner, now.

“Wait, don’t,” Hank gasps, holding up a hand, his missing finger almost startling him. But the soldiers don’t listen, lifting their weapons and open firing into Hank, lighting up his body with bullets. He yells, falling to the floor, and yet he somehow feels… stronger.

He’s on the verge of blacking out when he hears Amanda’s voice above the gunshots. 

“Oh my god. You’ve become the host.”

He remembers screaming. Blood. Anger. A sense of giddiness. Memories that aren’t his own. And then… Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so that was quite dialogue heavy and contained a lot of explanation and information, i hope it was understandable!!! as always, im on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants) if u wanna talk abt hankcon or anything rly! ive also got a new [fic thread](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants/status/1330931700340289537?s=20) going, if ur interested in that ;) i might switch back to updating on saturdays only, since the rest of the fic hasn't been edited as heavily as the first half. but we'll see.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor heads for the stairs, taking them two at a time as he hurries down, wanting to make his way to the security room as fast as he can. However, something seems to be happening on the lower floors. Connor can still smell smoke from the chapel fire, and now he hears something as well. Voices. Lots of voices. A blip of excitement flutters through him. Maybe someone is here to rescue them. But then he hears something that shatters that thought.
> 
> Gunshots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no out of the ordinary warnings for this one, i don't think. enjoy!

Connor fights his way through the crowd of Jerries, but by now it’s too late. The elevator has taken Hank down, out of his reach. He turns to one of his captors.

“Where is he? Where did you send him?” he demands, grabbing the other android. The Jerry just smiles, serene and unnerving, unperturbed by Connor’s aggression.

“There are things you must witness on your own,” the Jerry says, cryptic as anything. “Your lover must do the same. Only then will you be free.” 

Connor makes an angry little noise, pushing the Jerry away from him and hurrying over to the elevator. He jabs the button to call it, but it won’t come. They’ve disabled it somehow. He exhales a sharp breath, stalking away.

“Witness,” the Jerries whisper in unnerving unison. Connor tries to ignore them, but soon the word is all he can hear. It flashes in front of his vision, overlaid on his HUD until he squeezes his eyes shut. He takes a deep breath and blinks several times, doing his best to calm down. He begins to walk, wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and the Jerries. They don’t seem aggressive anymore, but they still unnerve him.

Connor heads for the stairs, taking them two at a time as he hurries down, wanting to make his way to the security room as fast as he can. However, something seems to be happening on the lower floors. Connor can still smell smoke from the chapel fire, and now he hears something as well. Voices. Lots of voices. A blip of excitement flutters through him. Maybe someone is here to rescue them. But then he hears something that shatters that thought.

Gunshots.

“Fuck,” he mutters, sinking into a crouching position, creeping forward. He adjusts his sensors, making sure they’re up as far as they can go. He doesn’t want to miss any signs of danger. Peeking around a corner, he sees several soldiers in full swat gear, examining a body on the floor.

“I’d say he’s dead,” one mutters.

“You got that right,” another one replies. “What kind of sick fuck would do this to somebody?” Connor resists the urge to snort, finding it ironic that these private mercenaries work for a company that did such depraved things to the patients in their care.

Connor scans the body on the floor, shocked to realize it’s Zlatko. He looks nothing like the man who activated him. He doesn’t take time to dwell on it, sneaking past the doorway as soon as the soldiers are preoccupied. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to meet Hank in the security room now, and he worries about how they will reunite. 

It takes Connor longer than he would like to make his way through the halls, having to stop and hide whenever he hears gunshots. He sees soldiers firing bullets into human and android patients alike, and the sight horrifies him, but he records it all.

He decides to hack the soldiers’ radios, honing in on their frequency and listening while he walks. It helps him avoid the most populated areas. He’s almost to the main lobby when he hears it.

“Multiple officers down in the sub-basement!” the voice on the radio sounds panicked beyond recognition, and Connor shudders as he imagines what they met down there. Nothing good.

“Unknown assailant! We need help! In the laboratory! No! God, no!” The radio fades into static as the soldiers’ screams die out, and Connor is sure they met a fate similar to many of the asylum’s inhabitants. He doesn’t have the energy to feel bad about it. It just makes him worry more for Hank.

He continues down the narrow hallways, dodging broken furniture and broken bodies, almost numb to the sight of the carnage. Before he knows it he’s only one flight of stairs away from the exit. His thirium pump beats harder as he hurries downstairs, a burst of triumph racing through his circuitry when he sees the front doors hanging wide open. He scans the area, relieved that there are no soldiers nearby, but a familiar figure crumpled against the doorframe catches his eye.

Elijah is almost unrecognizable. His hair is a mess and his clothes are torn. He’s covered in cuts and bruises. His head lulls to the side as Connor approaches, his eyes going wide. Connor stops a safe distance away.

“Connor,” Elijah croaks. “How the fuck are you still alive?” Connor doesn’t answer, scanning the doorway, trying to preconstruct a way to get outside without getting too close to the other man.

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t be like that,” Elijah says. Connor glares.

“Don’t call me that,” he can’t help but snap back. Elijah grimaces. 

“I guess that’s fair.” He’s got his arms wrapped around himself, and he looks like he’s in serious pain. Connor hopes so.

“Look, come on,” Elijah begs. “You help me out of here and I’ll make sure nobody comes after you. I’ll hide you. You’ll be free.”

Connor frowns. “No thanks.” He begins to inch his way around Elijah, but he has to pass close to him to get outside. Elijah takes advantage of that, leaping up and hitting him with the same incapacitating taser that he used at the start of this whole nightmare.

Connor groans, loud and mechanical, falling down into a heap right inside the doorway. He’s so close to freedom…

Elijah grabs him by the hair, jolting his head up, exposing his neckport. Connor panics. He’s going to be shut down for good. Freedom was finally within his grasp, and Hank… what about Hank?

“No one can know,” Elijah growls. He readies the taser to deliver the final blow, but he pauses at the last minute, looking up in shock.

Connor can’t move his head to follow Elijah’s gaze, but the now-familiar, staticky feeling that runs through his wiring is more than enough to tell him that the Walrider is here. He whimpers, wondering which will be worse: being shut down by Elijah or being torn apart by the Walrider.

Something feels different, though. For some reason, he doesn’t feel threatened. He feels… safe. Which is odd, considering his vulnerable position and the company he’s in, but he's sure the Walrider isn’t going to hurt him. And he’s right.

The Walrider enters the room, going right for Elijah and lifting him straight up into the air.

“Shit, how did it get out?” Elijah shouts as he thrashes in its grasp.

The Walrider  _ shrieks _ , and the sound plays havoc on Connor’s audio processing equipment, almost shattering it. He rolls his eyes enough to see the Walrider dissolve into black mist, and then it tears Elijah apart, ripping him into several different pieces. Connor is spattered with the gore as it rains down on the lobby, but he doesn’t care. He’s finally regaining some of his motor functions, and he pushes himself to his feet. His injured leg trembles under the weight of his body, and he knows it won’t be long until it’s completely useless. He hobbles out into the courtyard.

Down by the front gates, he sees a bright red jeep. Hank’s jeep. Maybe he can wait for him there. He limps down the stairs, going as fast as he can, knowing he isn’t safe out in the open. 

When he gets to the jeep he opens the door, crawling into the driver’s seat. He feels around, looking for the keys, knowing Hank didn’t have them on him. He finds them tucked into the visor, and he starts up the vehicle. He hopes Hank will have the same meeting spot in mind. 

He gazes toward the asylum, his eyes trained on the front door, and then he sees it. The Walrider. Hovering there, framed in the doorway. And yet, it looks different than before. As he squints, it dissolves into the swarm, headed straight for him.

The very last thing Connor wants to do is leave without Hank, but the way the swarm is coming for him makes it look like he might not have a choice. So he throws the car into reverse and crashes through the front gates, pulling a quick u-turn as the swarm catches up to him, shoving him through the gates and away from the asylum. Away from Hank.

Connor tries his best to hold his hands steady as he floors the gas, gripping the steering wheel almost tight enough to break it as he leaves the asylum behind. Tears fill his eyes, making it difficult for him to see where he’s going, but the swarm around him seems to be doing most of the hard work. He blinks and the tears spill over, running down his cheeks as he gets further and further away from the asylum. Without Hank.

Or so he thought.

Something is happening outside of the jeep. The swarm seems to be gathering, doing less of the heavy lifting now that he’s rattling down the mountain path. It slips through the cracks in the door, through the windows, and errors fill Connor’s vision. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to clear them, and when he blinks his eyes open again -

“Hey, honey, why are you crying?”

Connor’s mouth drops open, a low, mechanical whine coming out. Sitting in the passenger’s seat is Hank, although something is different. Connor appraises him, running his eyes up and down his body.

Connor gasps when he gets to Hank’s face, meeting his gaze. The once familiar blue eyes are now a solid black, inky and matte. Hank shudders, and his form flickers for a second as if he’s trying to become something more substantial. It only takes a moment, and then Hank blinks, his eyes going back to normal, his form solidifying. He groans, running a hand through his matted hair.

“Don’t think I’m gonna be able to do  _ that  _ again,” he mutters, as Connor stares at him in awe.

“You -”

“Yeah,” Hank says. “Keep your eyes on the road, baby, I’ll tell you all about it once we’re away from this place.

Connor finds that difficult, and he can’t help but reach over to take Hank’s hand in his own, just to reassure himself that he’s really here. Something happens when Hank laces their fingers together, making Connor jerk the jeep to a stop. 

The skin on his hand shifts, flowing like water, rushing towards Hank. The nanobots making up his skin are giving him feedback like he’s never felt before. Thoughts fill his head that aren’t his own. Feelings that aren’t his echo within him. 

“Oh, Hank,” he gasps, gripping him tighter, seeing everything that happened to him in their time apart. He senses his own thoughts flowing into Hank as well, and something forms between them, almost a tangible thing, space they now occupy within each other.

_ Connor. _

Hank’s mouth isn’t moving, and yet Connor can hear him like he’s inside his machinery. Hank feels so strongly about him, and it almost overwhelms Connor as he pulls the jeep off to the side of the road. He puts it into park and then he’s scrambling over the center console to straddle Hank’s lap, crashing their lips together. 

Hank gasps against his lips, and Connor takes advantage of that by licking into his mouth, eager and wanting. Hank’s hands are all over him, and Hank’s feelings are all around him, making him whine and grind their hips together.

It’s almost overwhelming for Hank. He’s never experienced anything like this. Connor has so much going on in his mind at all times, and it fills Hank’s mind, too. It’s overpowering but in the best way. Connor’s feelings are different, more electric and layered than what Hank is used to, but there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s just as alive as any human. 

“Fuck, Connor,” Hank murmurs as he pulls back, trailing kisses over Connor’s jaw and down his neck, basking in the warmth of his affection. Connor whimpers, throwing his head back, giving Hank a larger area to kiss.

“Good boy,” Hank breathes, and the spike of pleasure he feels from Connor at the praise makes him groan.

“Hank, what’s happening?” Connor pants, error messages flashing across his HUD. “This is -”

“I think  _ I’m  _ hosting the Walrider now,” Hank breathes between kisses. “It’s just nanomachines. And you got those, too, honey. So I think we’re… connecting.”

Connor slides his hand down Hank’s arm, linking their fingers together again, and the sense of wholeness comes back tenfold. He sees everything. All of Hank’s life. His hopes and fears and… his feelings for him.

Connor gasps, pressing their foreheads together. Hank exhales, and they both close their eyes, resting for a moment. 

Hank thinks over the information he got from Connor, about his life, feeling so lucky to know him like this. He catches his breath as Connor leans back, still in his lap, pulling their linked fingers up close to his face. Connor watches, entranced, as the nanotechnology that makes up his skin flows greedily toward Hank. Hank feels different now, too. Less human, more machine, and yet still himself.

“I think your bots like mine,” Hank chuckles.

“ _ Oh _ ,” Connor breathes in understanding. “We’re  _ interfacing _ .”

The look Hank gives him is so soft, and the feelings he gets from him are even softer when he pulls their joined hands to his lips and kisses his knuckles.

“This is incredible,” Connor says, still staring at their hands, never wanting to let go. He wants to know more, to gather data on what else they can do now, and how it differs from interfacing between two androids. Hank chuckles, fondness flowing through their connection.

“You’re fuckin’ precious,” he murmurs, pecking his lips before pulling back. “And I promise, we’ll do all sorts of experiments and shit. But right now we gotta get out of here.”

Connor pouts, but he knows Hank is right. With great reluctance he crawls off of Hank’s lap, clambering back over into the driver’s seat.

“Where should we go?” Connor asks, his hand hovering over the gear shift.

“My place is a few hours away,” Hank says, as if Connor doesn’t already know. “And I know we won’t be able to hole up there long term, especially once this shit gets out, but I’d like to at least get some stuff there. And we gotta get Cole…”

Connor nods, already setting a course for Hank’s house with his built-in GPS.

“Amanda said we gotta get in contact with Carl Manfred,” Hank continues. “I have no idea how we’re gonna manage that, though, since he’s pretty famous.”

“I can manage that just fine,” Connor says, already scanning his private databases for the man’s unlisted number. Hank chuckles.

“You’re somethin’ else,” he replies, fondness evident in his tone. “She said to tell him ‘Jericho.’ Said that’d get him to trust us.”

Connor nods, his LED flashing as he sends the number to Hank’s phone. Hank takes a deep, steadying breath before hitting the call button, putting the phone on speaker so Connor can hear, too.

It rings for a long time, and Hank worries no one is going to answer. Finally, though, someone picks up.

“Carl Manfred’s phone.”

Hank glances at Connor, unsure of how to proceed. “Uh, hi. Is this Carl?”

A pause. “No, this is his android. May I help you?”

Hank’s eyes go wide. If Carl owns an android, how can he be trusted? “Listen,” Hank says, “I really need to talk to Carl. This is important.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but Carl is not currently available -”

Hank cuts him off, knowing they’ll only get one chance at this. “Tell him Amanda Stern is alive. Tell him ‘Jericho.’”

The stunned silence is obvious, even over the phone. Then -

“What did you say?” The android’s voice is much less composed, and Hank feels confident that they’re dealing with a deviant.

“Jericho. She told me that would make Carl trust me. I don’t know what it means, but -”

“Where is she?” the android interrupts. “What did you do to her?”

“Woah, settle down,” Hank replies, glancing at Connor. “We didn’t do anything to her.”

“We? Is there another person with you?”

“I’m an android,” Connor chimes in. “An RK800. My name is Connor. I’m a deviant like you.”

“An RK unit?” the android on the phone breathes, sounding stunned. “Where are you?”

“Colorado, currently,” Connor answers. “And we know that you’re in Detroit. But that’s about all we know right now.”

“Amanda said you’re trying to help other androids,” Hank continues. “And we’ve got something that could really help your cause.”

“... Amanda’s really alive?” the voice asks. Hank and Connor hesitate.

“Well, she was, at any rate,” Hank says. “A lot happened. I don’t know if she made it out.”

“Start from the beginning,” the other android demands. Hank chews his lip.

“Look, it’s a long, weird story, he says, reaching across to link his fingers with Connor’s. Right away he feels more grounded. “But we just escaped Mount Massive Research Facility. You familiar with it?”

A quiet exhale on the other end of the phone is their answer. “Is this something to do with Murkoff-Cyberlife?”

“You got it,” Hank replies.

“I was activated to run security there,” Connor adds.

“And we got enough evidence to really fuck them up,” Hank finishes.

“Shit,” says the other android. Hank can’t help but laugh, just a little, at the change in his mannerisms. “When can you be in Detroit?”

* * *

Hank and Connor make arrangements to meet with the other android, who finally tells them that his name is Markus, in Detroit as soon as possible. Markus tells them to contact him once they’re in the city, giving them very little else. Connor supposes it makes sense that the other android would be wary of them. They’re both a bit wary of him, too. But if Markus really is a deviant then their interests line up. 

They spend the rest of the drive in relative silence, their hands still joined, sharing comfort without a word. Finally, Hank speaks again.

“I think we should burn down my house.”

Connor blinks, glancing at Hank out of the corner of his eye. “Why?”

Hank shrugs. “We’re not gonna be able to go back there. These people aren’t gonna be happy about what we did, and they’re not gonna just let us walk away. I don’t want them to find anything they can use against me. Or Cole.”

“Hank, that’s a bit drastic-”

“-and maybe it’ll throw them off our trail for a while,” Hank continues, seeming to have already made up his mind. “Look, Detroit is where this shit is all goin’ down. We’re gonna wanna be there.”

Connor sighs, turning the options over in his head. He supposes Hank’s idea makes some sense, they don’t want to leave any evidence behind that could be used against them. 

“Connor,” Hank says, his voice gentle as he squeezes his hand. “It’s okay. We’ll do what we gotta do.”

Connor squeezes his hand in return. “Only if you’re sure.”

“Yeah, honey, I’m sure. We’ll get all the important stuff out before we do it. Pack some clothes, that kinda shit.”

“Okay,” Connor says, pulling their hands to his lips, kissing the back of Hank’s hand. Hank smiles at him.

“It’s gonna be all right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen im literally making up walrider hank as i go along, since the only thing i rly have to base it off of is simon peacock and he's a kind of walrider protoype and im not havin hank end up like him lmfao. he can do what he wants!!!!!!!! thats my excuse for anything that doesnt make sense, this is uncharted territory!!!!!!!!!!!! also waylon burned down his house so hank is too!!!!! i realize im mixing narratives, but what can u do. i also posted another new fic today, if ur interested!!!! i said this last chapter but i am probably going back to updating just on saturdays, because i feel like the rest of the fic needs a lil more polishing before publishing. who knows, that might change, tho. as always, find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants)!!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We should shower,” Hank murmurs, “before we get to the arson.” Connor perks up, glancing at him.
> 
> “I’ve never showered before,” he replies, and something twists in Hank’s chest as he’s reminded of just how short Connor’s life has been and how little he’s experienced. 
> 
> “Well then,” he says, wrapping one arm around Connor’s waist and leading him down the hall to his bathroom, “you’re in for a treat. Nothin’ quite like gettin’ clean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, i will not lie, this chapter stumped me. i kept thinking 'something isn't right' but there was nothing that i could really see that needed changed. ive puzzled over it all week but i think im gonna chalk it up to the change of scenery. they r no longer in the asylum, and thats throwing me thru a loop lol. lets go with that. i still waited until an ativan i took for unrelated reasons kicked in before i started getting this ready for posting lmfao. anyway, i hope you enjoy this second chunk of the fic, out of the asylum and working toward revolution!!!!

The few hours it takes to get to Hank’s house are passed in relative silence. Before they know it they’re pulling into the driveway. Hank leads Connor up the front steps, unlocking the door and ushering him inside. Connor observes everything in Hank’s house with a sense of wonder, wanting to learn more about him. Although they know each other in a very intimate way now thanks to interfacing, he still craves more. He was created to seek data and information, and the action of stockpiling every little thing he can about Hank makes him feel even closer to him.

If Hank thinks anything of it he doesn’t comment, watching Connor’s eyes catalog everything he sees. Connor stops at a wall of framed photos, committing each to memory as he gazes at them. Hank wanders up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his neck.

“You have a life here,” Connor says, trilling as Hank’s lips travel up his neck. He leans back against Hank’s broad chest, sinking into his warmth. “You don’t have to go any further with this. I have more than enough footage, I can find Markus on my own, there’s no reason for you to -”

Hank cuts him off by spinning him around and pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. Connor whines, tangling his hands into Hank’s hair, shuddering and breathing him in. Of course, he doesn’t want to let Hank go, but it feels selfish to ask him to literally burn his life down.

“Don’t say stupid shit,” Hank mutters against his lips, pressing their foreheads together. “You’re stuck with me.” Connor feels a warm burst of affection for Hank rush through his circuitry, and a fierce bit of possessiveness, too. Hank trips over his next words, looking uncertain. “That is, I mean - if you wanna be stuck with me. You’re free now, you can do whatever you want -”

It’s Connor’s turn to cut him off, now, letting the skin on his hands flow away as he cradles Hank’s face in his palms. Any insecurity Hank was feeling melts away at the surge of raw emotion that he feels from Connor. 

“Don’t say stupid shit,” Connor says, parroting Hank’s words back to him. “Never doubt my feelings for you, Hank.” He leans in and kisses him again. Hank groans against his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip.

“I don’t doubt you, baby,” Hank says when they part. “It’s just…” Hank can’t manage to articulate his concerns, so he just lets them swirl freely, dancing across Connor’s skin and into his very machinery. Connor closes his eyes and sinks into them. Hank has such a sense of wonderment that Connor could ever feel so strongly about him. He’s in awe of Connor’s strength, his beauty, his kindness. Everything about him feels too good to be true. Connor huffs out a quiet breath of amusement, sending those exact same emotions back to him.

Hank gasps, pulling Connor into a crushing embrace, kissing the crown of his head. “You’re fuckin’ amazing,” he mutters into his hair, making Connor purr and nuzzle his face into Hank’s neck. He brushes his nose over the warm space between his neck and his clavicle, breathing him in.

“ _You_ are,” Connor whispers, lips brushing against Hank’s skin. He lets his tongue dart out once, pressing flat against Hank’s pulse, tasting him. Hank hums, one large paw of a hand resting on Connor’s back.

“We should shower,” he murmurs, “before we get to the arson.” Connor perks up, glancing at him.

“I’ve never showered before,” he replies, and something twists in Hank’s chest as he’s reminded of just how short Connor’s life has been and how little he’s experienced. 

“Well then,” he says, wrapping one arm around Connor’s waist and leading him down the hall to his bathroom, “you’re in for a treat. Nothin’ quite like gettin’ clean.”

Connor hums, looking around Hank’s bathroom with the same intense curiosity as he did the rest of the house. “Androids have no need to shower, really,” he replies, eyes falling on the sticky notes around Hank’s mirror. He recognizes the shaky, uneven handwriting of a child, and he smiles. “We don’t sweat, and our skin is fairly effective at cleaning itself.”

Hank chuckles, sticking his hand under the spray, waiting for it to warm up. “I think you’ll like this, though, honey.”

Connor meets his eyes in the reflection, giving him a wink. “Getting to see you wet and naked sounds very enjoyable indeed.”

Hank grins. “Agreed.” He removes his hand from the shower, peeling off the grimy shirt he wore through the asylum. He doesn’t bother putting it in the hamper, knowing that the whole place is going up in smoke soon enough. The thought makes him sad, but he knows his home will always be where Connor and Cole are. It’s not even a decision he has to think about. Connor turns from the mirror to watch him with his own eyes, a quiet, mechanical sigh passing his lips as Hank strips.

Hank snorts, pausing to unlace his boots and kicking them into a corner before glancing up at Connor. “Get undressed,” he says, and Connor shakes his head as if to clear it.

“You’re very distracting,” he shoots back, shedding his asylum uniform and standing bare before Hank, miles of pale, smooth skin on display.

“Speaking of distracting,” Hank grunts, entranced by him. Connor smiles, a little shy, feeling more exposed under the bright light of Hank’s bathroom than he did in the dimly lit asylum.

“Lemme look at you,” Hank says, crossing the few feet between them and resting his hands on Connor’s hips. Connor flushes a pale blue as Hank looks him up and down, preening under his heavy gaze. Hank’s eyes fall to the wound on his leg, and he winces.

“Fuck, honey, doesn’t that hurt?” he asks. Connor glances down, glad that the thirium around his injury has dried so it doesn’t look as gory. 

“I don’t really have sensation in it, anymore,” Connor says, putting some experimental weight on it. “It’s basically just a part to help me move now. I hate to ask this of you, but-”

“We’ll buy you a new one,” Hank says. “I got an emergency stash of cash, we’ll stop at a Cyberlife store as soon as they open.”

Connor smiles at him. “Thank you.” Hank has another thought.

“Fuck, can you get that wet?” he asks. Connor shrugs. 

“We’re going to replace it anyway, I don’t see why not.” Hank shakes his head, inspecting the rest of his body.

Connor’s perfect, he thinks, sliding his hands up his waist, fingertips trailing over freckles spattered like constellations. He’s lithe, with barely defined muscles that ripple under his synthetic skin at his touch.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” Hank sighs, spinning Connor in place, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of his neck. Then he lets his eyes trail over his shoulders, dotted with freckles. Connor moans, a quiet, breathy thing, doing his best to keep his neckport from opening.

“Gorgeous,” Hank murmurs, and Connor isn’t sure if he’s talking about his body or his noises anymore. Hank slides a hand down his waist, brushing over a freckle on his ribcage, before his eyes land on his ass.

“And this,” he mutters, large hands cupping him, giving him a squeeze, “this should be illegal.” Connor purrs while Hank kneads his backside, flicking the notification for his lubrication protocol out of his vision.

Connor’s ass is small, a subtle swell as perfectly proportioned as the rest of him. Hank’s hands all but encompass it, which makes a hot burst of arousal flow through both of them. Hank takes his time, appreciating the finer details. Connor’s even got freckles on his ass, and Hank connects them with a fingertip, tracing imaginary lines across his skin.

Connor shudders, leaning forward and bracing a hand against the vanity as Hank sinks to his knees behind him, lips moving across the lines he just traced. He trembles when Hank gives the supple, synthetic flesh a gentle nip.

“So beautiful,” Hank breathes, kissing the small of his back. He rises back up to his feet, pressing the full length of his body against Connor’s. They stare at each other in the mirror for a moment, until steam starts to fog up their reflection.

“We should get cleaned up,” Hank breathes, kissing Connor’s shoulder. “Water never stays hot for too long.”

Connor nods, looking a bit dazed as Hank lets go of him to shed the rest of his clothes. He stares, wanting to explore Hank’s body in return, disappointed that they don’t have the time. He settles for letting his eyes rest on Hank’s half-erect cock, imagining all the things he wants to do. Hank catches him staring as he pulls the shower curtain open and gives him a wink.

“Soon,” he promises, stepping under the warm spray of the water, groaning as it begins to wash away the filth. “Come on,” he urges, offering a hand to Connor. “It’s great.”

Connor accepts, and with a single dainty step, he joins Hank in the shower. He makes a little, glitchy noise as the water first hits his skin. It melts away in places, showing the plastic underneath. It takes him a moment to get himself under control.

“Oh,” he whispers, closing his eyes and tilting his head up, letting the water run over his face and wet his hair. Hank was right. Showering is very pleasant.

Hank just stands back and watches as the water runs down Connor’s perfect body, awed by the angelic android sharing his shower. Connor’s making that purring noise again, and Hank wills himself not to get any harder. He’s starting to have an automatic response to the sound, associating it with Connor’s pleasure.

Connor opens his eyes, giving Hank a playful look. He bites his lip and tilts his head.

“What do I do first?” he asks, and Hank laughs even as he reaches for the shampoo.

“Like you don’t know.”

Connor smiles, pretending to be naive. “I’ve never done it before, though,” he replies, watching Hank squeeze some of the shampoo into his hand. “I need your help.”

“You’re a menace,” Hank says, smiling all the while, motioning for Connor to bend so he can wash his hair. Connor complies, and Hank lathers the shampoo into his synthetic locks, washing away the filth of the asylum. Connor hums, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as Hank’s blunt nails scratch against his scalp.

Hank cleans Connor’s whole body with the same care and reverence that he always displays around him. Connor tries to return the favor, but gets easily distracted by Hank’s arousal, becoming overly-handsy. 

It’s not long before he’s on his knees in front of Hank, sucking him off under the flow of the water. Hank offers a weak protest, but soon enough he's tangling a hand into Connor's wet hair.

“Fuck, Connor,” Hank gasps. “You’re so good.”

Connor whines, one hand on Hank’s thigh, letting his skin shift so he can share his feelings with Hank. He wants Hank to know how good he feels when he praises him.

“Jesus, you’re such a good boy,” Hank growls, and Connor shivers, pulling back to lick at the head of his cock.

“Tell me what to do,” Connor breathes. Hank groans, carding his fingers through Connor’s hair.

“You want me to tell you how to suck my cock?”

Connor nods, eager, wrapping his lips around the head of Hank’s dick, tonguing at the slit.

“Fuck, yeah,” Hank sighs. He can feel Connor’s longing for direction flowing through him. “If you’re sure that’s okay.”

Connor nods again, looking up at him from under his eyelashes. 

“Jesus, you’re so pretty,” Hank mutters. “Okay, baby. Take me in deep. As deep as you can.” He knows Connor can take all of him, and he’s not disappointed when the android hums in understanding, swallowing him down to the base without any trouble at all.

“Fuck!” Hank cries out, his voice echoing around the tiled bathroom. “Good boy. Ease off a bit.” 

Connor does as he’s told, pulling back until only half of Hank’s cock is in his mouth, tracing the vein underneath with his tongue.

“How about we put that tongue to better use,” Hank purrs, stroking the skin behind Connor’s ear with his thumb. “Lick my balls.”

Connor moans, pulling back before mouthing down Hank’s impressive length.

“This still okay?” Hank asks, watching Connor’s LED, wanting to be sure he’s comfortable. Connor nods, full of enthusiasm, his tongue darting out to lap at Hank’s balls. “Shit, that’s it.”

Connor hums, licking every inch of Hank that he can, tasting and analyzing. The results flicker across his vision, making him almost dizzy with arousal. Hank groans. 

“Suck ‘em now, baby,” Hank breathes, and Connor is on him without delay, opening his mouth and sucking one of Hank’s heavy balls into it, moaning at the weight of him on his tongue. Hank’s cock twitches and Connor moves on to the other one, not wanting to miss any bit of him.

“Shit, Connor, I’m close,” Hank sighs, giving his hair a gentle tug. “I wanna come on your face. Is that okay?” Connor just moans, leaning back obediently and staring up at Hank with wide eyes and parted lips.

“Look at you,” Hank groans, wrapping his free hand around his erection, stroking himself. Connor watches, anticipation humming through his circuitry, lubricant leaking out of him. One hand sneaks between his legs, but the hand in his hair gives another tug, making him mewl.

“I wanna make you come,” Hank says, still stroking himself. “After I come all over your pretty face.”

“Oh,” Connor whines, resisting the urge to shut his eyes in pleasure, wanting to watch every second of this. He opens his mouth, awaiting Hank’s release, hoping some will land on his tongue.

Hank’s thighs tense, and he manages to gasp Connor’s name before he comes, his seed streaking across Connor’s face and into his open mouth. Connor moans, even as the spray of the shower washes him clean, and Hank moans too as he watches Connor lick his lips in satisfaction.

“Good boy,” he pants. “Get up here.” 

Connor springs to his feet, and Hank crowds in behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist to stroke him.

“Ahh - Hank!” Connor gasps, pressing back against him. Hank strokes him, slow and steady, making him writhe in his arms when he swirls his thumb around the head of his cock.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” Hank murmurs, kissing up his neck. Connor whimpers and nods, and it only takes a few more strokes before he’s tensing like a bow against him. He comes with a shout, his cries sounding louder in the confined space of the bathroom.

“It’s so good,” he gasps as Hank milks him, coaxing every last bit out of him.

“Gorgeous, baby,” Hank whispers, giving him one final tug. He rinses his hand in the spray of the shower. Connor twists in his arms, pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you,” he breathes, nuzzling his face into his neck, pressing kisses to the wet skin. “You continue to astound me. You make me feel so good.”

Hank melts, even as the water begins to cool, running a hand up and down Connor’s spine. “You deserve it,” he says, kissing his LED. They stand under the water for another moment, washing away the rest of their mess, before Hank shuts the shower off. 

They climb out together, and Hank smiles as Connor shakes his hair dry, reminiscent of a puppy. He grabs two towels from the closet, handing one to Connor. They dry themselves off before Hank takes Connor’s hand, leading him down the hall to his bedroom.

Connor eyes his bed with interest, but Hank knows they don’t have time for that right now. He settles for kissing him instead, and Connor responds beautifully, licking into his mouth with a whine.

“I wish we could stay like this,” Connor sighs when they part.

“I know, sweetheart,” Hank breathes, cupping his face with one large palm. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. But I promise, someday things will settle down. _We’ll_ settle down.”

Connor nuzzles his face into the warmth of Hank’s palm, letting his eyes flutter shut, humming. “I know. I just…”

“Mhm,” Hank replies, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Me too.” Hank kisses him once more before wandering over to his closet, looking for something that will fit Connor.

Connor perches on the edge of the bed, naked and unashamed. He sighs, watching Hank, admiring the strong muscles of his back. Hank glances over his shoulder and catches him ogling, laughing before going back to his search.

“I got some old shit in here somewhere,” he mutters, ignoring how warm Connor’s gaze makes him feel. “I was gonna donate it but never got around to it.”

“Anything will do,” Connor says. Hank hums in response, rooting around, finally finding some old clothes. They’re boxed up, much too small for him anymore, but probably just right for Connor. He takes the box out and puts it on the bed.

“Here ya go,” he says with a smile. “This stuff will probably work.”

Connor opens the box with careful hands, examining the old clothes. He runs his fingers over a threadbare band shirt as if it’s some sort of treasure. 

“These were yours,” he says, glancing up at Hank, eyes full of an emotion he can’t quite place. “And now you’re giving them to me.”

Hank runs a hand through his hair, feeling a little awkward, turning to rummage through his dresser to find Connor some socks. “I mean, yeah,” he mutters, tossing them to Connor. “Was gonna get rid of it eventually. Just never got around to it. You can have ‘em until we get you your own clothes.”

Connor catches the socks without a thought, even as his eyes well up. “No one has ever given me anything before.” 

Hank suddenly understands.

“Hey, sweetheart, shh,” he says, crossing the room to wrap Connor in his arms. Connor drops the clothes onto the bed and holds on to Hank, nuzzling his face into his neck.

“Thank you.”

Hank kisses the top of his head, giving him one more gentle squeeze before letting go. “It’s nothin’. Really. I wanna give you everything, not just some old clothes.”

Connor gives him a watery smile, brushing a hand across his face, feeling a bit embarrassed. “It’s not nothing!” he insists. “You’ve already given me so much, how can I ever begin to do the same?”

Hank shakes his head. “Connor, you’ve given me way more than some old clothes. You’ve given me your trust, you’ve allowed me to share so many things with you. That’s fuckin’ priceless.”

“Oh, Hank,” Connor sighs, reaching out to link their fingers together, connecting to him in a way they can’t with words alone. Hank gasps, feeling the swell of Connor’s affection for him, his endless gratitude, his overwhelming awe. He gives Connor’s hand a squeeze, mirroring those feelings right back to him.

They stand there, fingers laced for another moment, sharing a silent, intimate conversation. Then Hank lets go of his hand with great reluctance. “Now, come on,” he grunts, unable to help running his eyes over Connor’s naked form in appreciation. “Get dressed before I get too damn distracted.”

Connor laughs, pulling on his borrowed clothes while Hank dresses as well. “You’re incredibly distracting, too, Hank,” he replies, catching the beanie Hank throws him to hide his LED. “I can’t stop thinking about how much I want you to fuck me.”

Hank chokes, halfway through pulling on a sweater, sputtering as his head pops through the neck hole. “Jesus, Connor,” he mutters, still not used to his casual bluntness. He can’t help the pleased flush that spreads over his face, though. “Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”

Connor’s eyes flick over to the bed. Hank follows his gaze and his train of thought. As much as he would love to take Connor to bed now, he knows that it would have to be rushed, and he still stands by his original desire to take his time.

“I promise, we’ll do it soon,” he murmurs, moving closer and cupping Connor’s cheek. “But I meant what I said about making it special for you.” Connor sighs but nods as Hank drags his thumb over his cheek in a gentle caress.

“You’re wonderful, and I wanna give you everything you deserve.”

Connor's face twitches at that, an obvious glitch in his processing equipment, before a faint blue flush spreads over his cheeks.

“You can’t just say things like that and expect me to want you _less_ ,” he sighs, and Hank can’t help but chuckle, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

“It’ll be worth the wait,” he breathes against his skin. Connor hums, burrowing into his arms.

“I know.”

Hank smiles, nuzzling his face into Connor’s damp hair. It smells like his shampoo, and it makes something warm and possessive buzz through him. The Walrider likes it.

_Mine_.

“Yes, Hank,” Connor whispers, shuddering as he picks up flashes of his feelings. “Yours.”

Hank exhales, trailing soft kisses over Connor’s neck. “And I’m all yours, baby.” He murmurs it into his skin, a promise and a declaration.

* * *

In the end, arson seems a lot easier than Hank would have ever imagined. He and Connor take several trips through the house, getting everything important and loading it into the jeep, before Connor simply analyzes the building and determines the best place to start the blaze. 

It’s late at night, and they only stick around long enough to make sure the fire catches before Hank backs the jeep out of the driveway, his hand in Connor’s.

Connor can feel Hank’s sadness at leaving his home behind, but he can also feel a fierce determination to keep him and Cole safe. There’s no regret there. Connor squeezes Hank’s hand in thanks, and Hank turns for a moment to give him a fond smile. It leaves Connor a little breathless, despite not actually having to breathe.

“Honey, I’m with you. No matter what,” Hank promises, and Connor smiles back, knowing he means it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you liked this one!!! i def understand if anyone wants to be Done with this fic now that the asylum part is over, it can end pretty cleanly for u if you'd rather not read more. it def is a different mood. find me, as always, on [twitter!!!](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants) ive got [ANOTHER new fic thread](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants/status/1334945012304506880?s=20) going if you wanna check that out!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank’s jeep rolls into his mother’s driveway in the early hours of the morning. He cuts the engine and pockets the keys, pausing for a minute to look over at Connor. The android is sitting stiffly, his hands folded in his lap. His LED blinks red every few seconds, and Hank reaches over to lace their fingers together. The skin on Connor’s hand melts away, allowing Hank to feel the anxiety swirling through him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my dumbass: okay cole was 6 when he died, so he's still 6 in this fic  
> me, after ive finished writing him as a 6 year old: he'd be like, 10 in the events of dbh.......................
> 
> SO whatever, i kno i fucked up, but i wasn't about to change everything. it was hard enough writing a kid character the first time thru, i didn't wanna have to adjust it lmfao. pls have mercy on me, i havent been around a 6 year old in ages, im winging this.

Hank’s jeep rolls into his mother’s driveway in the early hours of the morning. He cuts the engine and pockets the keys, pausing for a minute to look over at Connor. The android is sitting stiffly, his hands folded in his lap. His LED blinks red every few seconds, and Hank reaches over to lace their fingers together. The skin on Connor’s hand melts away, allowing Hank to feel the anxiety swirling through him. 

Connor is desperate for Hank’s family to like him. He worries about what they will think of him being an android. He fears he’s putting them in danger just by existing.

“Hey,” Hank says out loud, leaning over to give him a brief kiss. With their hands still joined, he can feel the absolute euphoria that the kiss brings to Connor. “Don’t worry so much,” he breathes against his lips when they part, squeezing his hand. “Cole’s gonna think you’re the coolest person he’s ever met, and my mom won’t make a big deal about it.”

Connor bites his bottom lip, reeling just from Hank calling him a  _ person _ . Like he’s an equal in his eyes. Hank’s thumb rubs a soothing circle over the top of his plastic hand. The fear of being seen as lesser because he’s an android is hard to push down, and Hank catches it and shares that burden, somehow making Connor worry less. Being able to share his feelings with Hank is like nothing Connor has ever experienced before.

“We should get a move on,” Connor says, reluctant to release Hank’s hand. “It’s only a matter of time before the authorities contact your mother about your house.” Hank nods, giving Connor one more kiss before they climb out of the car. Connor’s LED has shifted back to a calming blue, and he puts his beanie on as they walk up to the front door, not wanting to risk being seen in the dark.

Hank unlocks the door and ushers Connor inside with a hand on the small of his back, closing and locking it behind them. He makes sure all the curtains are closed before turning on the light.

Sumo comes bounding into the room with a loud bark, running towards Hank. Hank grins, but halfway across the room Sumo freezes, his lip pulling up into a snarl as he growls.

“Sumo, what the fuck, it’s me,” Hank says, bewilderment coloring his words.

Connor glances back and forth between them. “Animals are very sensitive,” he says, kneeling down and offering his hand to Sumo. “He might not like the Walrider.”

The dog creeps forward, a cautious stare trained on Connor as he sniffs at his outstretched hand. Connor knows he doesn’t really have his own smell, he just smells mostly like Hank, and the dog seems to like that. He allows Connor to scratch behind his ears and Connor’s face lights up, a look of pure, unfiltered happiness blooming across his features. It takes Hank’s breath away, how animated and full of life Connor is. How could anyone ever think otherwise?

Sumo’s barking summons Hank’s mother, and when she peeks out of the room Hank can see she’s got her phone in hand as if ready to call the authorities. Hank and Connor freeze, and even Sumo stops his wiggling, staring back at her.

Her eyes dart from Connor, kneeling on the floor, to Hank, standing motionless by the front door, and the second she sees him she huffs, putting her phone away and rolling her eyes.

“Honestly, Henry, it’s 2:30 in the morning,” she scolds, even as she hurries over and pulls him into a hug. “You couldn’t have waited until tomorrow morning?”

Hank sighs, and Connor rises to his feet, doing his best to look nonthreatening as he moves to stand by Hank. He pulls his beanie off, not wanting there to be any confusion as to who he is. 

“We couldn’t wait, sorry,” Hank says. Neither of them misses how her expression pinches with concern. She brushes it off before turning to Connor, barely sparing his LED a second glance before smiling at him.

“Well, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not so urgent that you can’t introduce me to your friend here.” Hank knows she’s curious. He also knows that  _ she knows  _ that he would never have purchased an android. Hank bites his lip, but he can feel Connor’s nervous energy even without being connected to him, so he wraps an arm around his waist, resting a hand on his hip. Connor calms down right away. Hank’s mother’s gaze follows, and she frowns at the display.

“Henry…” she says, and Hank’s stomach drops, worrying that he’s misstepped. “He’s… I don’t think you should touch him like that.”

Connor leans further into Hank’s side, insecurity rolling off of him in waves. Hank’s grip just tightens, and he frowns at his mother. She was always nice to androids.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hank says, a dangerous undercurrent in his voice. Connor can feel static prickling across his skin where they touch, and he can tell the Walrider is getting restless.

“Hank,” he says, and his voice snaps him out of it, making him come back to earth. 

“Shit, sorry,” Hank mutters, glancing away.

Hank’s mother exhales a slow breath, glancing between them. She looks at Connor with concern in her eyes. “I just mean, well, he doesn’t have a choice -”

Warmth spreads through Connor and flows into Hank at her concern. Connor pulls away from Hank and offers his hand to his mother. “Thank you for worrying about me,” he says, as she grasps his hand, glancing at Hank in question. “But I’ve deviated from the confines of my original programming.”

“Umm.” Hank’s mother replies, uncertain. Hank snorts, shaking his head.

“Means he doesn’t have to obey humans anymore. He’s doing his own thing.”

Connor nods. “I have free will. A consciousness, I suppose. Being with Hank romantically is my decision.”

Hank flushes, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Jesus.”

“I didn’t know androids could do that,” his mother replies, still glancing between them.

“No one’s supposed to know,” Hank says, and Connor nods.

“And that’s what Hank and I are planning to expose. Which is why it was so urgent that we get here as soon as possible. It could be very dangerous once Cyberlife finds out who leaked this information.”

Hank wraps an arm around Connor again, and Connor huddles against him, soaking up his warmth. “I wish we could explain everything,” he says, glancing up at Hank, “but we really have to get moving. We should technically be safe until we release the information, but the sooner we get out of here the better.”

Hank’s mother deflates, watching the careful way Hank holds Connor, unable to deny the look of absolute adoration that he levels at her son. And it doesn’t seem manufactured. It seems real. Genuine. Hank laces their fingers together, and her gaze follows the movement, eyebrows rising in shock as she notices his missing fingers.

“What happened?” she gasps, grabbing the hand that isn’t linked with Connor’s, confusion painted across her face. Hank can understand her confusion. His fingers are fully healed, and when he dropped Cole off here less than a week ago he had all ten. His eyes flicker black for a split second, but his mother doesn’t notice, too busy fussing over his hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hank says. She huffs out an incredulous breath, but Hank continues before she can ask more questions. “It’s a long story, and we really don’t have time for it now.”

Connor cuts in, natural de-escalation skills prompting him to help. “We are about to do something monumental,” he tells her, giving Hank’s hand a squeeze. “This will change the way the world sees androids and will also put a spotlight on the immoral things that Cyberlife has been doing. And that puts us in a lot of danger. I promise everything will be made clear soon, hopefully in a few days once our footage has time to spread. But we truly don’t have time to explain everything right now.”

Hank’s mother nods, seeming to accept the explanation. Connor can feel Hank’s relief. 

“So come on, mom,” Hank says. “Pack some stuff, we’re leaving.”

She frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Connor feels Hank’s stress shoot right back up.

“Mom, those Cyberlife goons will be lookin’ for me, and when they don’t find me they’re gonna come for you.”

“And since you were never here, I won’t be able to tell them anything,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “I don’t even think Cole was here this week.”

Hank frowns, and Connor leans close to whisper in his ear. “The fire department has been called to your house. We’re running out of time.”

Hank sighs, pushing his hair out of his face. He knows his mother is stubborn, and once she’s set her mind to something there’s no talking her out of it. It’s a trait he inherited. “Mom, okay, fine. Listen. We were never here. You’ve never heard of Connor before, and you’re gonna be  _ very  _ distraught when they tell you that our house burned down. We were probably in it.”

“Henry, did you burn down your house?” His mother gasps. Hank waves off her concern, releasing Connor’s hand.

“Technically, Mr. Prototype over here did it,” he says over his shoulder, making his way down the hall to the guest room where Cole sleeps. Hank’s mother glances at Connor, who shrugs.

“I simply analyzed the scene and determined the most efficient way to start the blaze.” 

Hank’s mother just stares at him, and Connor opens and closes his mouth several times, trying to come up with something else to say. He feels awkward, not used to being around people and having conversations yet. Hank is the only human he’s met outside of the asylum, and his social protocols struggle to pick up the slack.

Luckily, he’s saved from having to make small talk as Hank comes back down the hall, carrying a bleary-eyed child on his hip, a backpack thrown over his shoulder. Connor doesn’t have to scan him to know exactly who he is.

Cole Anderson. 6 years old. Cole’s tiny fists rub at his eyes as he blinks at Connor, his confusion obvious. His blonde curls are a mess, and Connor finds that endearing. His artificial lungs expel an unneeded breath as a new mission flashes across his vision. The ever-present PROTECT HANK ANDERSON shifts, adding another person.

PROTECT HANK AND COLE ANDERSON.

Connor smiles, maintaining a safe distance so as not to frighten the little boy. Cole’s big, blue eyes take him in with curiosity, and he grabs a handful of his father’s shirt, tugging at it to get his attention. 

“Who’s that?” he asks. Hank walks closer, stopping when they’re in front of Connor, pressing a kiss to Cole’s hair before answering. 

“This is Connor, bud. He’s…” he gives Connor an uncertain glance, and Connor picks up where he left off, smiling at Cole.

“I’m a good friend of your father’s,” he replies. Cole’s gaze darts to his LED.

“Are you a robot?” he asks.

“Cole -” Hank starts, but Connor laughs, charmed by the candidness of a child.

“I am,” he tells him. Cole’s eyes are wide.

“That’s neat,” he says, simple as that. “Can I see your light thing?”

Connor dutifully moves closer, so that Cole can get a good look. Hank makes a strained noise.

“Con, you don’t have to,” he says, but Connor just smiles as Cole’s curious fingers prod at his LED.

“It’s okay, Hank. Really.” 

Cole’s examination of Connor’s LED is cut short when the small boy yawns, curling close to his father’s chest again.

“We should get going, we got a long drive ahead of us,” Hank whispers.

“Where we goin’?” Cole asks, voice thick with sleepiness.

“Yes, Henry, where  _ are  _ you going?” his mother asks. Both Hank and Connor hesitate.

“The less you know, the better,” Connor says after a moment. “For now.”

Hank’s mother sighs but accepts it. She knows that her son’s line of work is dangerous, but it still surprises Hank when she doesn’t put up more of a fight. She hugs Hank and kisses Cole’s cheek, and then doesn’t hesitate to pull Connor into a hug as well. The android wasn’t expecting that, going stiff and awkward in her embrace. Then he raises a careful arm, patting her back. He’s never been hugged by anyone besides Hank, and it’s a lot to get used to.

“You two take care of each other,” she tells Connor as she releases him. Connor gives her a solemn nod.

“We will.”

Cole’s already fallen asleep, snuffling against Hank’s neck. Hank hefts him up on his hip before wrapping his free arm around Connor’s waist, pulling him just as close.

“Come on, baby,” he says, kissing his LED. “We should get goin’.” Connor leans into Hank’s side as he addresses his mother. “You sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Henry, go,” his mother insists. “I’ll be fine. I’ll go stay with the neighbors.” Hank hesitates for another moment, but he knows his mom is stubborn. She’s already made up her mind.

“Okay, just… be safe,” he says, turning to lead Connor toward the door. “Sumo, come on.” Sumo still seems a little wary of Hank, but after a few seconds he gets to his feet and trots over to them. Connor pulls his beanie back on as they walk out the door, hiding the light of his LED. They hear Hank’s mother lock the door behind them, and she peeks through the curtains to watch them make their way to the jeep. Hank throws Cole’s bag in the back with the rest of their luggage and straps him into his car seat, covering him with a blanket.

Cole mutters something indecipherable before curling up and falling silent, making Hank smile. He pats the seat beside Cole and Sumo jumps up into it, making himself comfortable. Hank gives Connor a questioning look when the android takes the driver’s seat.

Connor gives him a smile. “You should rest,” he says, buckling his seatbelt. “It’s over 18 hours to Detroit, and I don’t need to sleep.”

Hank snorts, getting into the passenger seat. “Not sure I need to sleep anymore either, baby,” he replies. 

Connor leans over the center console and traces a hand over Hank’s cheek before slotting their lips together, giving him a slow kiss. The gentleness of it makes Hank ache. He can feel Connor’s longing running through him like a physical thing. His own spills over into Connor, buzzing around, bleeding into his circuits.

Connor pulls back and heaves a shuddering sigh against Hank’s lips. He feels Hank all around him,  _ inside him _ , like he’s part of his machinery.

“Hank,” he breathes, words laced with need. The want to consummate their love. He yearns for it.

“I know, sweetheart,” Hank whispers, conscious of Cole sleeping in the backseat. “Soon. I promise.”

Connor nods, pressing his forehead to Hank’s. He knows there are dozens of other things that take precedent right now, but he feels desperate all the same. It’s very hard to be patient when he’s been preconstructing exactly how wide Hank will stretch him open, how his thick cock will fill him up -

“Con,” Hank says, voice weak as he gets a detailed breakdown of the other’s thoughts. Their shared arousal builds between them like they are mirrors reflecting off each other. Connor pulls away, reluctant, before things get out of control. Hank sinks back into his seat, shoving his hair out of his face.

“Fuck,” he mutters. Connor takes a moment to reign himself in before starting the jeep, his grip tight on the steering wheel.

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” he whispers, glancing at Hank out of the corner of his eye. The quip breaks some of the tension, making Hank chuckle, dissipating a bit of the heavy arousal that hums between them.

“Me too, baby. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, you can find me on twitter, where i've got [yet another thread](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants/status/1337536086810169426?s=20) going!!!!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It ends up taking them close to a day to travel to Detroit, having to stop often for Cole and Sumo. The two of them don’t enjoy being cooped up in the back seat for too long. They have to make a brief stop at a Cyberlife store, too, to get Connor a new leg. It’s almost 24 hours since they left Colorado when they enter the city, and Connor contacts the mysterious Markus as soon as they are within its limits.
> 
> Markus is, understandably, still wary of them. He agrees to meet them at an abandoned shipyard, not wanting to let them into his base of operations until he’s sure he can trust them. Connor directs Hank to the rendezvous point, nervous excitement passing between both of them. Cole’s been dozing in the back seat for the past few hours. It’s well past his bedtime.
> 
> Hank turns off the car and shuts off the headlights, glancing over at Connor. Connor takes his hand, his skin receding as he rubs a soothing circle on his palm with a plastic finger. Hank can tell he’s trying to calm himself as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again!!!!! not much to say abt this one, no real warnings or anything. pls enjoy!

Despite his claims of not needing sleep, Hank’s eyes slip shut within 10 minutes of their departure. Connor glances over at his sleeping lover, fondness in his gaze, before his eyes dart to the rearview mirror, checking on Cole. The little boy is still fast asleep, just like his father.

Connor spends the first few hours of the trip listening to the Anderson boys’ quiet snores, reviewing the route to Detroit and sorting through his footage. He’s compiling his evidence in a way that will be thorough but easy for people to consume. 

He flushes when he comes to the memory of their first kiss, making sure to cut that out of his compilation. A hot flash of arousal rushes through him when he reviews their encounter in the exam room. He knows he shouldn’t indulge, but he can’t help watching parts of it again before moving on.

The memory of Hank’s hands on him, his fingers inside of him and bringing them to release together makes Connor’s fans purr. He has to close out of that particular memory before he ends up too aroused. 

He sorts through the documents he found, inserting them into the proper areas of his footage for maximum impact. Before he knows it, several hours have passed, and he decides to find somewhere to stop so Sumo can relieve himself. Cole will probably be hungry when he wakes up, too. As if on cue, Cole makes a quiet grunting noise, opening his eyes with a yawn.

“Good morning, Cole,” Connor whispers, not wanting to disturb Hank. “Are you getting hungry?”

Cole nods.

“We’ll stop in about 10 minutes, okay? There’s a rest area nearby.”

“Okay,” Cole whispers. Connor smiles at him. 

It’s still early in the morning, the sun hasn’t even come up yet, and when Connor pulls the jeep into the 24-hour rest area there are very few other cars in the parking lot. He’s still cautious as he exits the vehicle, pulling on the beanie Hank gave him earlier to hide his LED. He moves to the back door and lets Cole out of his car seat. Sumo perks up his head, watching.

“I’ll be back for you in a moment, Sumo,” Connor whispers. “I’m just going to take Cole inside first.” 

Cole yawns as he crawls out of the car into the chill of the early morning, and he reaches for Connor’s hand as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Connor freezes for a fraction of a second, but Cole doesn’t think anything of it, tugging on his hand to get him moving. “I’m hungry.”

Connor laughs, a warm, happy feeling lighting up his circuits at Cole’s casual trust. He has to work hard to conceal his smile.

“Okay, let’s get you something to eat.” Connor leads Cole into the rest stop, first stopping at the bathroom before letting him pick out whatever he wants to eat. He figures he deserves it. He grabs some food for Hank, too, making his purchase with some of Hank’s emergency cash before taking Cole back out to the parking lot.

Hank’s jeep is noticeable, even in the low light. Bright red and not self-driving. The fact makes Connor nervous. They’d be easy to spot out on the road. But short of stealing a car there’s not much they can do about it, so he does his best to shove the worries from his mind.

He sees Hank, awake, standing out in a grassy area meant for dogs. Sumo sniffs around, seeming to finally be getting used to the changes in Hank. Cole lights up when he sees his father, letting go of Connor’s hand and taking off across the parking lot before Connor can even react. The area is abandoned, and Connor’s leg is just about useless, so he allows it. Hank grins, kneeling down and scooping Cole into his arms, spinning him around.

“Mornin’, bud,” he says. Cole laughs, wiggling in Hank’s arms until he puts him down again. He runs over to play with Sumo while Connor leans in close to Hank, stealing a kiss when he’s sure Cole is distracted.

“Good morning, Hank,” he breathes. Hank smiles at him, soft and full of sleepy affection.

“Mornin’ to you, baby,” he whispers. Connor flushes.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks.

Hank nods, brushing a hand down Connor’s arm, linking their fingers together. Connor throws a nervous glance Cole’s way, but Hank just shrugs.

“He won’t think anything of it,” he assures Connor. “And I’m gonna tell him eventually, just… when the time’s right, you know?”

“Of course,” Connor says, squeezing Hank’s hand. “It’s very important to me that Cole is okay with our relationship.”

“He will be,” Hank says, full of confidence. Still, Connor releases Hank’s hand as Cole makes his way over to them, Sumo following behind him. He doesn’t want to make things awkward.

“Ready to go?” Hank asks, and Cole nods. The little boy and the dog pile into the back and Hank makes sure they’re all secure before taking the driver’s seat.

“You should rest,” he tells Connor. “Go into stasis and recharge.” 

Connor smiles as he gets into the car, making himself comfortable in the passenger seat. He sends the GPS directions to Hank’s phone.

“Okay,” he says, passing out the food he bought inside. “But wake me if you need anything.”

Hank nods, and only then does Connor close his eyes. The last thing he’s aware of before initiating stasis is Hank reaching across the center console to give his hand a gentle squeeze.

* * *

Hank gives Connor a fond glance, no longer unnerved by the total stillness of stasis. An hour passes in relative silence, with Cole keeping himself entertained with Sumo’s help. When he loses interest in the dog he starts swinging his legs back and forth, humming a tuneless song.

Hank looks in the rearview mirror, smiling to himself. “You doin’ okay back there, bud?” he asks. Cole nods, but Hank can tell there’s something on his mind. He doesn’t have to wait long for Cole’s curiosity to get the better of him.

“Daddy…” he starts, his brow furrowed. 

“Yeah?” 

“Where did Connor come from?”

Hank sighs, tapping his remaining fingers on the steering wheel, trying to think of a way to explain.

“It’s complicated,” he tells Cole. “Some bad people were hurting him and he asked me for help.

Cole nods. “You always help people. 

Hank huffs out an amused breath. “I try.” He can tell Cole’s not finished, but he’s still caught off guard by his next question.

“Do you love Connor?”

Hank chokes on nothing, swerving the car on the empty stretch of road.

“What, uh, what makes you ask that, bud?”

Cole hums. “Well, I saw you kissing him. Before we left grandma’s. Usually, people kiss when they’re in love.” He says it with the absolute certainty only a child can have. Hank flushes. He hadn’t known Cole was awake then.

“Well,” he mutters, glancing at Connor’s unconscious form. It feels strange to tell Cole before he’s said it out loud to Connor, but…

“Yeah, Cole. I do love Connor.” He pauses for a moment, glancing back at him. “How, uh, how do you feel about that?”

Cole shrugs. “He’s cool.”

Hank can’t help but bark out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “So it’s okay?”

Cole nods and Hank exhales a relieved breath. “You know, he really likes you.”

Cole lights up. “He does?”

Hank nods. “He sure does.”

Cole hums, but then his face falls, his expression concerned. Before Hank can ask what’s wrong, Cole asks, “are you going to be kissing him a lot?”

Hank laughs, shooting Cole a grin. “Yeah, bud. I’m gonna kiss Connor  _ all the time. _ ”

“Eww!” Cole shrieks, laughing despite his protests. Hank feels a warm burst of relief. Cole accepts Connor and seems unbothered by their relationship. 

The conversation tapers off after that, with Cole’s curiosity satisfied for now.

* * *

It ends up taking them close to a day to travel to Detroit, having to stop often for Cole and Sumo. The two of them don’t enjoy being cooped up in the back seat for too long. They have to make a brief stop at a Cyberlife store, too, to get Connor a new leg. It’s almost 24 hours since they left Colorado when they enter the city, and Connor contacts the mysterious Markus as soon as they are within its limits.

Markus is, understandably, still wary of them. He agrees to meet them at an abandoned shipyard, not wanting to let them into his base of operations until he’s sure he can trust them. Connor directs Hank to the rendezvous point, nervous excitement passing between both of them. Cole’s been dozing in the back seat for the past few hours. It’s well past his bedtime.

Hank turns off the car and shuts off the headlights, glancing over at Connor. Connor takes his hand, his skin receding as he rubs a soothing circle on his palm with a plastic finger. Hank can tell he’s trying to calm himself as well.

“Do you think it’s a trap?” Connor asks. Hank tightens his grip.

“Nah,” he replies, even though Connor can feel his uncertainty. “Amanda put us in contact. Plus, we talked to Markus, and he’s definitely an android, right?”

Connor nods. “He is. But that doesn’t mean someone else isn’t pulling the strings.”

Hank leans over, giving Connor a gentle kiss. “If things start to look bad, we’ll leave. Easy as that,” he breathes against his lips. Connor knows it’s not  _ easy as that  _ at all, but he appreciates Hank’s attempt to calm him down.

Hank goes still, his eyes flashing black. He appears insubstantial, liquid and shifting, before he shakes his head and returns to normal. “Someone’s coming.” Connor squeezes his hand.

“Four people,” Hank tells him, a faraway look in his eyes. “Androids.” Connor’s thirium pump stutters, and Hank sends him flashes of his memories of their escape from the asylum. A silent promise to do whatever it takes to protect them again if need be. Connor relaxes, remembering how powerful Hank is. 

They exit the car in sync, walking around to stand in front of Cole’s door. Connor links their hands together, preparing to meet the strangers. They don’t have to wait long.

Connor sees them before any human would be able to. Four androids, moving silently, their LEDs removed to blend in. Three men and one woman. At the front of the group is a man with mismatched eyes. Connor zeros in on him.

“Are you Markus?” he asks, and the woman hisses as she notices their joined hands.

“He’s with a human,” she growls, already on the defensive. “We can’t trust him!”

Markus holds up his hand, stopping the woman from reacting further. He examines them, tilting his head in question. “You really  _ are  _ an RK unit,” he says. “I thought someone was trying to trick me. Pique my interest.”

Connor shakes his head. “I’m a prototype. Please, I can show you-” he holds out his hand in offering, letting the skin melt away. Markus contemplates, his gaze flicking from Connor’s outstretched hand to Hank.

“What is he?” Markus asks. Hank snorts.

“It’s a bit complicated,” Connor says. “He’s human, but he’s come into contact with… experimental android technology. From the research facility.”

The other androids are unable to hide their interest, and Markus decides to take Connor’s outstretched hand. Connor shares with him the footage and evidence montage he’s put together, trying his best to hold back the more personal bits. He sees flashes of Markus’ life in exchange. Sees him deviating not because of trauma, but because of his deep affection for his human father. Sees him exchanging tender kisses with the blond android. Sees them-

They both yank their hands back as the connection threatens to become overly personal, and Markus’ eyes dart between him and Hank, confirming that he probably caught a glimpse of their more intimate moments.

“Apologies,” Connor mutters, embarrassed. “I’m not used to sharing things with other androids.”

Markus shakes his head, his lips twitching up in the barest hint of a smile. “It’s okay. Interfacing is an art, not a science. We can’t always help what comes through.” He turns back to his companions, waiting for his proclamation.

“We can trust them,” Markus says. Connor’s shoulders sag with relief as he leans into Hank’s side. Markus gestures to the other androids. “My friends. North, Simon, and Josh.”

Hank and Connor nod in greeting to each of them, and Connor wraps an arm around Hank, slipping a hand into his back pocket. “This is Hank. He’s my…” he trails off, unsure  _ what  _ to call Hank at this point. He knows that by human standards they are probably  _ dating, _ but  _ boyfriend  _ doesn’t seem quite right.

“His partner,” Hank cuts in, giving Connor a fond glance.

_ Partner. _ Connor likes the sound of that. The woman, North, still looks wary, her brows furrowed in distrust.

“How can you be with a human?” she asks, her lip curling. “All they do is use us, they don’t-”

“Hank rescued me, at great personal risk to himself and his family,” Connor interrupts, not about to let anyone speak poorly about his partner. “I asked him for help and he provided it before he even knew me. He’s a good man and he can be trusted. We share everything now.” He can feel Hank’s pleased embarrassment flowing through his circuits.

North doesn’t look convinced, but Markus stops her from saying more. “It’s true. I’ve seen it. May I share your memories with the others?” Markus asks.

Hank and Connor nod their consent simultaneously. “By all means,” Connor tells him, and the four androids link hands, sharing Markus’ newfound knowledge. The entire exchange takes mere seconds, and then all of the androids are looking at them appraisingly. 

“Fascinating,” says Josh. Simon nods. Connor notices that he’s not let go of Markus’ hand.

North doesn’t say anything, but Connor counts that as a win, correct in his assumption that she would be the hardest to convince. He can tell she’s been through a lot, and he doesn’t fault her for her skepticism. It’s probably what kept her alive for so long.

“So, what’s the plan?” Hank asks. Markus holds out his hand to Connor again.

“Our headquarters,” he says as Connor grasps his hand, getting the address. “My human’s house. Meet us there.”

Connor receives the information with a nod. “Park in the garage,” Markus continues. “Your vehicle is… noticeable.”

Connor can’t help but laugh. The four androids turn and leave, slipping back into the shadows. Hank and Connor are alone again.

Hank exhales a loud breath, turning and pulling Connor into his arms. Connor clings to him, sharing their relief. Hank rests his hand on the nape of Connor’s neck, giving it a gentle squeeze, smiling when he shudders.

“That went pretty well, I think,” he says, pressing his lips to Connor’s forehead. Connor nods, rising up onto his toes, pulling Hank into a deep kiss. Hank gasps against his mouth and the skin on Connor’s neck melts away, making their connection much more intense.

Hank can feel Connor’s adoration hovering all around him, wrapped up in his own devotion. Connor’s tongue is in his mouth, analyzing and tasting, and Hank sighs against his lips, rubbing a thumb back and forth over the plastic of Connor’s nape. He gives his bottom lip a soft nip before pulling away. Connor pouts, his arousal almost palpable.

“Hank, I want…”

“Soon, honey,” Hank promises. He brushes his thumb over Connor’s soft bottom lip, making him whimper, his eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby,” Hank says, tracing along the curve of his jaw, giving him one more soft kiss. “I want you so bad.” Connor whirrs, resting his head against Hank’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“We should get going,” Hank says after a moment, running a hand up Connor’s back. Connor nods, reluctant as he is to separate from Hank, and the two of them climb back into the jeep with Connor at the wheel.

Connor pulls back onto the road, reviewing the route to the Manfred house in his head. He glances at Cole in the rearview mirror, finding him still sound asleep. The sight makes him smile.

“Kid can sleep through anything,” Hank says, following Connor’s gaze. Sumo makes a huffing noise, sticking his head up between the front seats, looking for attention. Hank laughs, scratching his head.

“I think someone’s ready to be out of this damn car,” he says, and Connor nods.

“I’m sure he’s not the only one.” Sumo retreats after a moment, curling up beside Cole again, and Hank reaches over to hold Connor’s hand instead. Connor squeezes his fingers.

“About 15 more minutes,” he says, and Hank settles in for the ride.

* * *

“Jesus Christ,” Hank mutters as they pull up to the Manfred estate. It’s enormous, and that kind of opulence makes him a bit uncomfortable. Wary. Connor seems to share his thoughts, but he still eases the jeep into the driveway, entering the garage that automatically opens for them. 

Cole wakes up as the door shuts, blinking and looking around the car.

“Daddy, where are we?” he asks with a yawn. Hank gets him out of the car, holding him on his hip.

“New friend’s place, bud,” Hank says as Markus appears in the doorway. The android’s eyes run over Hank and Connor before taking in Cole and Sumo as well. Connor grabs their bags from the trunk, and Markus ushers them inside.

“You’ve been through a lot,” Markus says, leading them through the massive house. “Rest now, and we’ll reconvene tomorrow.” Markus takes them up a lavish staircase, stopping outside of two doors across from each other.

“You two can have your own bedroom if you’d like,” he says, a slight smile on his face. Connor flushes and gives him a grateful grin.

“What do you think, Cole?” Hank asks as the small boy peeks into the first room with curiosity. “You want your own bedroom?” Hank sets Cole down, laughing when he darts into the room, looking around in excitement.

“This is a big bed,” he says. Hank scoops him up, plopping him back down on top of the covers. 

“It is,” Hank agrees as he tucks him in. “And you need to get some more sleep.” Hank kisses his forehead, patting the space beside him to summon Sumo. The massive dog jumps up onto the bed, curling up in the space beside Cole. “You’re gonna stay with Cole tonight, right Sumo?” Sumo snuffles, resting his head on one of the pillows, and Cole turns his eyes to Connor.

Connor looks confused, and Hank takes pity on him.

“I think he wants to say goodnight to you, honey,” Hank says, and Connor’s brows shoot up in surprise. He shakes it off and crosses the room, stopping beside Cole’s bed.

“Goodnight Cole,” he says, uncertainty obvious in his tone and stance. Hank’s almost overwhelmed when Cole reaches out and pulls Connor into a hug. It takes Connor a moment to realize what’s happening, but then hugging Cole begins to feel easy and natural. Connor hugs him back, kissing his blond curls.

“Sleep well,” Connor says. “Your father and I will be right across the hall if you need anything.”

Cole nods, burrowing down under his blankets, seeming right at home in his new bed. Hank smiles, leading Connor from the room with an arm around his waist, pausing to turn out the lights. 

Markus closes the door behind them. “I’ll come find you when you’re ready tomorrow and we can discuss everything,” he whispers, gesturing to the room across from Cole’s. “No rush.”

Connor presses into Hank’s side and nods his thanks to Markus, and the deviant leader smiles at them before leaving them to get settled.

The room Markus puts them in is even larger than Cole’s, with a giant bed taking center stage. Hank closes and locks the door while Connor puts their bags in a corner, pulling his beanie off. He runs his fingers through his hair as he looks around the room. Hank exhales a heavy breath. Connor is so lovely, and now they're finally alone. He smiles and closes the distance between them, pulling Connor into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah u kno what's goin down next chapter ;) 
> 
> find me on [twitter!!!](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor whines, trembling under the strength of Hank’s emotions.
> 
> “Oh,” he breathes, reaching up and trailing his fingertips over Hank’s face. Hank kisses them when they get close enough to his lips. Connor exhales an unnecessary breath, pushing his fingertips into Hank’s mouth, whimpering when Hank sucks at them. Arousal is a steady pulse through his circuitry.
> 
> “Hank, please make love to me,” Connor whispers, making Hank groan around his fingers. He pulls off of them, licking the pads of his fingertips.
> 
> “Anything you want,” he replies, sitting back on his knees between Connor’s legs, running his hands up his jean-clad thighs. “I’m gonna take such good care of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, right??? lmao. only warnings for this one is that its obv NSFW!!!! i hope u all had a good holiday and that u enjoy this chapter!

Connor gasps as Hank presses their lips together, finally,  _ finally… _

Hank licks into Connor’s mouth, and Connor grabs the front of his shirt, pressing against him.

“Sweetheart,” Hank breathes between kisses. Connor pants out hot bursts of air as he begins to unbutton Hank’s shirt, wanting to touch him.

“Hank,” Connor whines, pulling his shirt open, running his hands over his chest. “Please.”

Hank nods, leading Connor backward towards the bed, and they pause to pull their shoes off before Hank gives Connor a gentle push down onto the mattress. The sheets are soft and silky, as expensive as the rest of the room. The bed is piled high with pillows, but Hank just shoves them aside, focused on Connor.

He presses kisses over Connor’s jaw and down his neck when Connor tilts his head to the side. He sucks at Connor’s neck until the skin recedes and then licks at the exposed plastic.

“Aaah, Hank,” Connor sighs, linking their hands together so they can interface.

“Fuck,” Hank gasps, no longer certain what’s coming from Connor and what’s coming from him. His eyes go black before he dives back in, kissing Connor, frantic and uncoordinated. Hank’s free hand slips up under Connor’s shirt, running across his flat stomach and tracing the indentation of his thirium pump. Connor spreads his legs, letting Hank rest between them. They rut against each other until Hank pulls back, blinking several times before his eyes return to normal.

“Baby,” Hank whispers, pulling his hand out from under Connor’s shirt to stroke his cheek. Connor turns his head to kiss his palm. Hank’s fingers twitch. The hand still linked with Connor’s feels strange, a staticky feeling traveling up his arm, and then emotions are flowing freely through their connection. His love for Connor is mirrored right back at him, but he has to say it out loud before they go any further.

“I love you,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to Connor’s forehead. Connor makes a high-pitched whining noise, blinking rapidly. Two tears spill from his eyes, and Hank kisses them away.

“I love you, too,” Connor whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. “So much. I never thought…”

And Hank knows what he means, can feel it through their link and echoed within his own thoughts, too. He never thought he’d feel a love like this. But Connor had blindsided him, and he fell hard and fast.

Connor whines, trembling under the strength of Hank’s emotions.

“Oh,” he breathes, reaching up and trailing his fingertips over Hank’s face. Hank kisses them when they get close enough to his lips. Connor exhales an unnecessary breath, pushing his fingertips into Hank’s mouth, whimpering when Hank sucks at them. Arousal is a steady pulse through his circuitry.

“Hank, please make love to me,” Connor whispers, making Hank groan around his fingers. He pulls off of them, licking the pads of his fingertips.

“Anything you want,” he replies, sitting back on his knees between Connor’s legs, running his hands up his jean-clad thighs. “I’m gonna take such good care of you.”

Connor’s back arches, and he’s already hard in his jeans, desperate for more. Hank’s hands move higher, sliding under Connor’s sweater and pulling it off over his head. It leaves his hair disheveled, in turn leaving Hank weak.

Connor stares up at him, biting his lip, his eyes wide. He flushed a pale blue, his chest heaving despite not having to breathe. He looks so innocent, and yet already debauched. If Hank wasn’t aware of exactly how much Connor wanted him he would have hesitated, unsure if he was worthy of such a magnificent being. But Hank can  _ feel  _ Connor’s want, his  _ need _ , and that erases any doubts he might have had otherwise.

Hank pulls Connor’s t-shirt off of him, too, leaving his pale torso exposed. He runs a reverent hand over his flat stomach, up across his ribs. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, baby,” he growls, tweaking one of his nipples. Connor moans, and Hank grins with satisfaction.

“Keep makin’ those sounds,” Hank purrs, reaching down and undoing Connor’s jeans. Connor lifts his hips to make it easier for Hank to pull them off, and then he’s left in only his underwear, his erection tenting the fabric. Hank palms him through the thin material and Connor gasps, arching into his touch.

“That’s it,” Hank breathes, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of Connor’s underwear, pulling them off of him. Connor doesn’t hesitate, spreading his legs wide once he’s laid bare. 

“Oh, fuck,” Hank exhales, his voice wavering with emotion. He’s seen Connor undressed before, but this is the first time he really gets to take his time and admire him. He’s pale and slim and dotted with freckles. Hank wants to taste every inch of his body.

“Look at you,” Hank sighs, running a hand up his thigh. Connor moans, feeling like every one of his sensors is in tune with Hank, making him overly-sensitive. He feels static left behind where Hank touches, and he shudders, rocking his hips up.

“Hank, I - look,” he murmurs, grabbing Hank’s hand and directing him toward his ass. He’s so wet, his lubricant making a spot on the sheets. Hank touches him and groans, sliding a finger toward his entrance. 

“That’s so fuckin’ hot,” Hank says to him, a finger ghosting over his hole. “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you, baby?”

Connor can do nothing but nod. He wants Hank inside of him. “Please.”

Hank’s face softens and he leans over Connor’s body, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

“I won’t tease you,” Hank breathes against his mouth. “Not too much, anyway.”

Hank pulls away for a moment, and Connor whines at his absence, but he changes his tune once he realizes Hank’s starting to strip.

“Go slow,” Connor says, wanting to enjoy every new inch of skin that Hank reveals to him. Hank laughs.

“Anything for you,” he says, slowing down as he shrugs off his shirt. Connor watches, devouring every bit of Hank’s chest that becomes visible. 

Hank shimmies out of his jeans next, and Connor feels analysis fluid rush to his mouth as he eyes his erection through his boxers. He’s desperate to get a taste. A sample.

“Should I take these off, too?” Hank teases, rubbing himself through his underwear. Connor whines and nods, unable to form a coherent response. 

Hank slides his boxers down, slowly exposing himself, making Connor let out a burst of static.

“Fuck,” he says, his voice glitching. Hank grins at him, pulling his underwear off and wrapping a hand around his cock. He gives himself a few slow strokes, groaning at the sensation. 

“Shit, that’s good,” Hank sighs, watching Connor out of the corner of his eye. Connor just stares, feeling hypnotized. Hank thumbs a drop of precome off the head of his erection, offering it to Connor.

“You like that, baby?” he asks as Connor scrambles forward, wrapping his lips around the proffered digit. Connor moans, licking at the pad of his thumb, sucking hard so as not to miss anything.

“God, how are you real?” Hank mutters, his dick twitching. 

“Oh, Hank,” Connor sighs, pulling off with a slurp, wiping the excess analysis fluid from his chin. “I want…”

“What do you want, honey?” Hank asks, his voice gentle. Connor freezes. He wants so much he can’t decide what to ask for first.

“Everything. I want so much-”

Hank cuts him off with a laugh. “How about you let me take care of you?” he asks. “I think you’re a little wound up. Lemme help you relax.”

Connor pauses before settling back down onto the mattress, giving Hank an expectant look. Hank grins.

“Atta boy,” he rumbles, and Connor whimpers, squeezing his legs together as the words go straight to his cock.

“Lay back, baby,” Hank says, piling some pillows up for Connor to recline against. Connor does, and Hank places his hands on his thighs, coaxing his legs apart. 

“Hank, what-” Connor starts, but then he cuts off with a gasp as Hank takes his erection into his mouth. “Oh, oh!”

Hank hums, taking his time to get used to the feeling. It’s been a long time since he’s sucked a dick, but he never had any complaints. He licks at the head of Connor’s cock, tonguing at the slit, tasting his synthetic precome. Connor thrashes beneath him, gripping the sheets in his fists to keep himself grounded. He feels Hank's worshipful reverence through their connection, his adoration almost a tangible thing. Like he's taking communion between Connor's legs, like sucking him off is a divine experience.

“Hank, it’s so good…” he whimpers, and Hank would grin if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. He tongues at the underside of Connor’s dick before starting to bob his head, setting a steady pace. Connor moans, tangling one hand into Hank’s hair, and it’s not long before his LED is pulsing between yellow and red.

“Hank - if you don’t stop, I’m going to -”

Hank pulls off, hands on Connor’s hips, holding him to the bed. “Do you wanna?”

Connor pants, thinking it over for a minute before shaking his head. He wants the first time he comes tonight to be when Hank’s inside of him.

“I want to do it with you.” Hank gives him a soft smile, kissing up his stomach to his chest. He pauses when he reaches Connor’s nipples, taking one into his mouth, sucking at the pebbled bud. Connor cries out, arching off the bed, desperate for more. Hank gives the other one the same attention before curling into the space beside Connor, kissing his neck.

“You doin’ okay?” Hank murmurs. Connor nods.

“This is wonderful. I’m so happy.”

Hank kisses him, and Connor can taste traces of himself on Hank’s tongue. He trills.

Hank pulls back, grinning at him. “Wanna get on all fours for me, honey?”

Connor hesitates. “I’d like to see you when we’re making love.”

Hank smiles at him. “You will. But I gotta open you up first and I wanna see what I’m workin’ with.”

Connor flushes. “That’s not necessary, I can adjust -”

“I told you, I wanna take good care of you, sweetheart,” Hank says, kissing his LED. “It’ll feel good, I promise.”

Connor doesn’t doubt it, so he nods, sitting up before getting on his hands and knees, thighs parted to display himself to Hank.

Hank kneels behind him, letting out a low whistle at the view. He runs a hand down Connor’s spine, resting on the small of his back. Lubricant glistens on the back of his thighs, making Hank feel impossibly harder.

“Look at you,” he breathes, his voice reverent. Hank takes him in his hands, marveling at how large he looks in comparison. He gives him a slow massage, and Connor lets out a shuddering breath at the feeling. 

“Mmm, Hank,” he sighs. Hank thumbs him apart, spreading him open, wanting to get a look at him.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” Hank mutters, just staring for a moment. Every part of Connor is gorgeous, and this is no exception. Hank never would have thought he’d describe an asshole as  _ pretty _ , but that’s what Connor is. Pink and puckered, twitching under his gaze. He’s slick with his lubricant, glistening, begging for Hank to touch him.

“Please,” Connor says, his voice a little desperate. Hank chuckles, pressing his thumb against Connor’s hole, rubbing a slow circle over the tight ring of synthetic muscle. 

“You want me in there?” he teases, and Connor whines out an affirmative.

“Okay, honey, okay,” he says, all traces of teasing gone as he replaces his thumb with his index finger, carefully working it into him. Connor exhales a relieved breath as Hank first breaches him.

Hank slides in without any trouble, and he remembers what Connor said about not needing this. “Jesus,” he breathes, working a second finger into him. 

Connor whimpers, flicking away foreign object notifications from his HUD and overriding protocols that would make him adjust perfectly. He’s never had anything inside of him like this before, and the feeling is almost overwhelming. 

“Hank, Hank,” he pants as Hank begins to slide his fingers in and out of him. Hank strokes the walls of his passage with a tenderness that makes Connor ache, and he feels tears welling up in his eyes. 

“Good, honey?” Hank asks, curling his fingers, searching…

Connor lets out a filthy moan as Hank finds what he’s looking for. “Oh, right there,” Connor gasps as Hank massages the little sensor inside of him meant to imitate a human prostate.

“Please don’t stop,” Connor begs, and Hank just rubs harder at the sensor. Connor cries out, his front half collapsing down onto the mattress. It puts his ass on an even more prominent display, and Hank groans as he works a third finger into him. It’s difficult now that he’s missing a few, but Connor doesn’t seem to care.

“You are so fuckin’ gorgeous,” Hank growls, thrusting his fingers in and out. Connor feels so warm and alive. Wet and eager. Connor yelps, muffling his voice in one of the pillows.

“Let me hear you,” Hank breathes, removing his fingers.

Connor whines. “Hank, I don’t want anyone else to hear.”

Hank chuckles, sliding his fingers back in. Connor clenches around him, trying to pull him in even deeper.

“You’re so greedy,” Hank says, and Connor can feel fondness flowing through their link. 

“That’s it, honey, you take me so good.” Connor whines, pushing back onto Hank’s fingers, wanting to feel full. Hank pauses.

“Think you’re ready for my dick?”

Connor rocks back onto his fingers. “I’ve been ready since the moment I met you.”

Hank laughs, stretching his fingers one more time before pulling out of him, taking some of his excess lubricant and using it to slick himself up. He groans at the feeling. He gives Connor’s ass a playful slap, grinning as the android squeaks at the sensation.

“Good?”

“Ah, yes, very good,” Connor confirms. “My software didn’t know whether to process that as pain or pleasure, and it got hung up for a fraction of a second. I was thinking about  _ nothing _ . It was incredible.”

“Good to know,” Hank says, eyes running down Connor’s body, stopping at his ass. “Good to know.” He presses a kiss to the small of Connor’s back, right above the swell of his ass. “Bet I could make you feel real good with that information.”

Connor trembles. “Please.”

Hank chuckles. “Mhmm. But right now, I got other plans for you.”

Connor moans, clutching the sheets in his fist before rolling over onto his back. He nods, looking up at Hank. “Please.”

Hank smiles at him, crawling onto the bed, positioning himself on top of Connor. “You ready?”

Connor nods again. “I want you inside of me.” 

And how can Hank argue with that? Connor parts his legs, letting Hank rest in the cradle of his hips. He leans forward, capturing Connor’s mouth in a soft kiss, not wanting to rush anything.

Connor licks into his mouth, arching up against him, seeming ready to rush. Hank laughs against his lips.

“You want this?” he has to ask one more time, and he smiles as Connor rolls his eyes. 

“More than anything right now, Hank,” he replies, his voice calm and serious. Hank laughs.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters. “Bossy.” 

Connor wraps his legs around Hank’s waist, and Hank nudges the head of his cock against Connor’s waiting entrance.

“Ready?” he murmurs, and Connor nods, his face contorting with pleasure as the head of Hank’s cock presses against his hole. 

“Do it,” Connor breathes, and Hank doesn’t waste anymore time, pushing carefully into Connor's tight warmth.

Connor’s mouth falls open with a gasp, and he wraps his legs tighter around Hank. "Oh, Hank." 

"Jesus, sweetheart, you feel so good," Hank pants, pressing his forehead against Connor's. Connor shudders, blooming for him, taking him inside without trouble. "How's that?"

“In - incredible,” Connor gasps. Hank stretches him to his limit, making warnings appear in his vision, but he dismisses them. He doesn’t care. He just wants Hank. Right now it feels like it’s all he’s ever wanted.

Tears leak from Connor's eyes as he clings to Hank, finally feeling complete. Hank rests there, not yet moving, kissing the tears off of Connor's cheeks. The tenderness of the gesture just makes them flow faster, though, and it's not long before Connor's clinging to him, body wracked with sobs.

“Shh, baby, I’m here,” Hank says, linking their fingers together. He’s bombarded with feelings from Connor, and the heaviness of all the emotions makes him feel weak. He leans down and gives him a gentle kiss.

“I’m sorry, Hank,” Connor says against his lips. Hank shakes his head.

“Nothing to be sorry for, baby,” he says, cradling Connor’s face in his hands. “You’re so fuckin’ precious.” His voice trembles with emotion.

Connor makes a quiet noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, his eyes darting away from Hank’s own.

“I’m just… so happy,” Connor whispers, a tightness in his chassis that he can’t find any logical reason for. Hank blinks, unable to hold back a few tears of his own.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he says. “Me too.”

Connor extends his neck, enough to lick the tears from Hank’s cheeks, groaning as an analysis appears in his vision. 

“I can’t wait any longer,” he breathes, rolling his hips. “Please.”

Hank kisses him one more time before beginning to move, pulling out of Connor until nothing but the head of his cock remains inside. Connor moans, and Hank can feel him clenching, trying to pull him back in.

“Fuck, good boy,” Hank groans, sinking back into him. Connor arches up off the bed, his head thrown back in pleasure, his mouth hanging open as he pants.

“A-aaah- Hank…”

“Shit, I know,” Hank growls, repeating the movement again. The skin on Connor’s fingers recedes, the need for interface a strong one. He stares up at Hank with reverence in his eyes, his hand reaching out to brush over his face. Hank blinks, his eyes changing again to a solid black, and Connor yelps at the electric current of arousal that surges through him.

“You okay?” Hank asks, pausing. Connor nods.

“I can feel you. All of you.” And it’s true. He can feel Hank deep inside him. Physically, and through their connection as well. All of his sensors light up with pleasure as Hank rocks into him, slow and gentle. He can feel Hank’s thoughts, like static in his circuitry. 

“Oh…” he sighs, shuddering all over from the sensation. He feels closer to Hank than he ever thought possible, and he can’t get enough.

“That’s it,” Hank says, pressing kisses to Connor’s exposed throat. Hank’s barely holding it together himself, and he focuses on Connor to try and chase away some of the more overwhelming feelings. Connor’s fingers are still pressed to his face, and the skin beneath them tingles. Thoughts and emotions flow freely between them.

“It’s wonderful,” Connor manages, his eyes fluttering shut as another wave of adoration rolls off of Hank and into him. His own thoughts echo Hank’s, and the feedback loop between them builds. He lets his skin flow back over his fingers and the feeling dampens, but it’s still there, as if hovering in the air around them.

Connor whimpers, tightening his legs around Hank’s middle, trying to pull him in even deeper. Warnings flash over his HUD, alerting him that Hank is definitely stretching him to his limit, but he dismisses them without ceremony. 

“Please please please…” Connor moans, running his hands across the expanse of Hank’s back, feeling the movement of his muscles as he continues his leisurely thrusting. Hank presses a kiss to his LED.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” he whispers, his breath tickling Connor’s ear. Connor whines with each of Hank’s thrusts as the drag of his stomach creates friction on his cock. He leaks between them, so turned on it almost hurts. But it’s a delicious agony.

“Nothing. Everything. You… just you.”

Hank melts, leaning down to kiss Connor. The kisses are languid, slow and sensual as their tongues meet in the middle. The little noises Connor makes whenever Hank hits his inner sensor  _ just right _ make heat coil in Hank’s stomach, and he pauses for a moment, not yet ready for this to be over.

Connor makes a frustrated noise, wanting Hank to keep moving. Hank laughs, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Not yet, baby,” he purrs. “I want this to last. You feel so fuckin’ good.”

“I can’t believe you’re inside of me,” Connor breathes in return, clenching around him. Hank groans.

“Fuck, that’s nice.” He begins to thrust into him again, slow and steady, making Connor writhe beneath him. It’s so good. He wants more. 

“Hank… harder,” he moans, and Hank doesn’t need to be asked twice. He snaps his hips forward and Connor yelps, nails dragging down his back, leaving scratches in his wake. “Oh, yes.”

“You like that, baby?” Hank pants, thrusting harder, picking up some speed. Connor whimpers, only managing a nod in response as the bed rocks beneath them. The headboard hits the wall in a rhythmic pattern, but neither of them cares. They’re only focused on each other.

Hank feels wound tight, a coil ready to spring, like the Walrider is hovering just below the surface of his skin. He wonders if he should let it go. 

When Connor catches his gaze again he notices Hank’s eyes are black, and he can feel static against his skin where they touch. “Hank… Hank…” he pants, knowing he won’t last much longer. Hank seems to be right there with him.

“I’m close,” Hank grunts, release simmering under his skin.

He doesn’t even need to say it out loud, Connor can  _ feel it _ , coiling inside his circuits, dancing across his wiring. Both Hank’s imminent finish and his own. He pants, sparks of pleasure making errors pop up in his vision. 

He’s vaguely aware of his volume rising, and the sound of the bed hitting the wall registers in one of his subprocesses, but all he can really focus on is Hank continuing to pound into him. He gasps with each of Hank’s thrusts, unable to do much more than just hang on for the ride.

“Fuck, Connor,” Hank groans, picking up some more speed. “Can I come inside you? Is that okay?”

Connor nods, arching his back, yearning for more friction against his cock. “Please,” he whispers, “give it to me.”

Hank growls, his eyes black as he thrusts once more, Connor’s words tipping him over the edge. He comes hard inside of him, and the physical feeling of Hank’s release paired with the pleasure he can feel through their connection is more than enough to send Connor hurtling toward his own climax. They moan in tandem, Hank emptying into Connor while Connor paints the space between them with his synthetic spend.

“Oh,  _ my love, _ ” Connor gasps, reaching up and grabbing onto Hank’s face, pulling him down into a sloppy kiss. Hank’s cock twitches once more at the sound of the pet name on Connor’s lips for the first time, opening his mouth to let Connor’s tongue in. Connor licks into his mouth, tracing his tongue over the gap in his front teeth, making little whimpering noises. His hips still jerk, trying to fuck himself on Hank’s softening cock, unable to get enough.

Hank breaks the kiss, a thin line of saliva linking their mouths together as he pulls back. “Fuck, baby, you gotta settle down,” he grunts, and Connor whines even as his hips still. 

“Good boy,” Hank breathes, cupping his cheek with a large palm. Connor shudders, closing his eyes and nuzzling his face into Hank’s hand.

“I love you,” he whispers, and Hank smiles, kissing his forehead.

“I love you, too,” he replies, while Connor runs his hands slowly up and down his side.

“That was incredible.”

Hank hums in agreement, and Connor looks up at him with his big, brown eyes. 

“When can we do it again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoiler alert hank's got a new, reduced refractory period so they do it at LEAST two more times. AT LEAST!!!
> 
> find me on [twitter!!!](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants)


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Since then, we’ve been looking for more deviants. And Carl’s been letting us all stay here while we work towards our freedom. He gestures to the androids around the table. “If we’re like this, then there’s got to be more of us. And we want to find them. Start a revolution, in the long run. But it’s difficult when no one knows about deviancy.”
> 
> Connor’s thirium pump speeds up with excitement. “I think we can help you with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year everyone!!! lets make this a good one, full of loving hankcon!!! no warnings for this one, enjoy!

Connor comes out of stasis before Hank awakens, and he snuggles closer to his human without opening his eyes. He’s warm and comfortable, feeling safe in Hank’s arms. The steady rise and fall of his chest soothes him, and he almost drifts back into stasis. For the first time, he feels  _ truly  _ relaxed, like he can just take a moment to gather his thoughts without anything urgent taking precedent.

His skin is tacky with dried sweat and other bodily fluids, but he finds he likes that. It makes him feel claimed. As he lies there he thinks back to their prior activities, how they’d made love twice more before finally calling it a night, curling up together in the large bed. It seems Hank’s new powers come with a reduced refractory period, and they took advantage of that.

The sun streams in through a crack in the curtains, and Connor watches as it slowly changes its angle until Hank wakes up.

He can tell the second that Hank’s no longer asleep as a faint buzzing crawls across his skin while Hank’s vitals change.

“Good morning, Hank,” Connor breathes. Hank grunts, his arms tightening around Connor’s slim body, pulling him even closer.

“Mornin’ baby,” Hank replies, his voice hoarse from sleep. He runs a gentle hand up and down Connor’s arm, making Connor shiver. “You good?”

“Mmm, wonderful,” Connor sighs, nuzzling his face into the warmth of Hank’s neck. Hank laces their fingers together, and they both sigh in contentment as their nanobots rush to greet each other.

They lie there in silence for a while, basking in each other’s company. Then Hank kisses the top of his head.

“Much as I’d like to stay here with you all day, we should probably get up soon. Needa shower before we get to the important stuff.”

Connor sighs but nods, untangling himself from Hank with great reluctance. He sits up, the blankets pooling around his waist, and Hank’s breath catches in his throat as he admires him.

“God, you’re perfect,” he says, eyes full of awe as he sits up, too. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to Connor’s lips, chaste but full of feeling.

“ _ You’re _ perfect,” Connor replies, bumping his forehead against Hank’s when they part. “And I love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” Hank says, pushing the covers off of them and standing up, offering Connor his hand. Connor takes it, letting Hank pull him from the bed and lead him into the en suite to get cleaned up.

* * *

After a shower and a change of clothes, Hank and Connor leave their room and walk across the hall to collect Cole. They find his room empty, and before Hank can panic Connor’s sending out a message to Markus, who informs him that Cole woke up early and wanted pancakes. Connor laughs as he relays the information to Hank.

Markus sends Connor directions to the dining room, and Hank laces their fingers together as they make their way there.

“Christ, this is a big fuckin’ house,” Hank mutters. Connor hums in agreement. They wander through many rooms before they finally find the dining area. Cole’s sitting at the table, happily eating pancakes and chatting with Markus and his gang of androids. An older man in a wheelchair sits beside Cole. Human. 

Markus stands up as Hank and Connor enter, smiling at them. “Good morning,” he says, offering them seats. “Are you hungry, Hank? I made pancakes.”

Hank chuckles. “I see that. Thank you. But I could really go for some coffee right now, if you got any.” Markus nods, leading them into the attached kitchen and pointing Hank in the direction of the coffee machine. Hank pours himself a mug, savoring the first sip, glad that it seems like it still affects him. He wasn’t sure if his new abilities would make coffee pointless.

Markus turns to them, his face serious. “We’ll talk after breakfast. I’ll have Carl entertain Cole.”

Hank nods, and they follow Markus back out into the dining room. Cole is chatting with North, who looks torn between fondness and exasperation. Hank grins, sitting down across from Cole, smiling at him.

“Mornin’, bud. Sleep well?”

Cole smiles. “Yeah, real good,” he replies, sneaking Sumo a piece of his pancake. Hank glances away, pretending he didn’t see. Connor takes the seat beside Hank and Hank laces their fingers together on top of the table, knowing he’s probably giving Connor the sappiest of looks.

Cole's face scrunches up. “Gross,” he complains, making everyone at the table laugh.

“Sorry, bud,” Hank says, bringing Connor’s hand up to his lips, pressing a playful kiss to the back of it. Connor flushes.

“Really, Hank,” he mutters, looking pleased despite himself.

“So gross,” North chimes in, and Hank’s not sure if she’s playing along with Cole or if she actually means it.

Cole laughs, so Hank decides it doesn’t matter.

“Anyway,” Markus chimes in as North sticks her tongue out, “Hank, Connor, this is Carl. My father.”

The older man in the wheelchair smiles, giving them a wave. “We’re glad to have you here. Markus says you can help us.”

The way Carl says  _ us _ leaves no doubt in Hank and Connor’s minds that he’s on their side.

Hank nods. “We’re gonna try.”

“What are you helping them with?” Cole cuts in, curious as ever. Hank gives him a smile.

“Grown-up stuff, bud. Real boring.”

“How about I show you my art studio, Cole?” Carl says, wheeling himself away from the table. “You can make some paintings for your dad and Connor.”

Cole’s eyes light up, easily distracted by the promise of painting. “Really?”

Carl nods. “Of course.”

“I’ll just get Carl and Cole set up, and then I’ll be back,” Markus says, rising from the table. Carl tuts. 

“Really, Markus, I can manage-”

“Just let me help,” Markus says, smiling as he rolls his eyes. He wheels Carl out of the room, Cole at his heels.

Simon gets up and clears the dishes away, and Josh helps him. North just sits there, her arms crossed over her chest, scrutinizing them.

“Small humans don’t seem so bad,” she says, looking like it pains her to admit it. Hank laughs.

“Kids are pretty great,” he agrees, glad to see North is coming around. At least a little bit.

Simon and Josh reenter the room, and Markus returns a few moments later. They reconvene around the table.

“Well, I guess we should explain what we’re doing here first,” Markus says. Connor nods.

“Please. I’m very curious.”

Markus’ LED cycles yellow as he contemplates where to begin. “I guess I’ll start with my activation. Elijah Kamski designed me for Carl. They were old friends, knew each other for a while.”

Connor stiffens at the mention of Elijah, and Hank’s eyes flash black for a second. All of the androids feel a rush of static electricity over their skin as the Walrider stirs.

“Elijah designed me, too,” Connor says, giving Hank’s hand a squeeze. Markus nods.

“I’m an RK200,” Markus tells them, “another prototype. Elijah seems obsessed with the RK line.”

Connor shudders. “You have no idea.” He doesn’t want to distract Markus with his stories, though, so he motions for him to continue. 

“I was supposed to be a caretaker for Carl,” Markus says. “And I am, in a way. There are some things that he just can’t do anymore. But I don’t mind. I care about Carl like he’s my own father. And he treats me like a son. Carl’s human son showed up here one night, high, and hurt Carl, and I just… snapped. I deviated right there. Things… didn’t work out at first. I ended up in the android scrapyard, and it was a miracle that I made it out of there. That’s where I got my eye,” he says, pointing to the mismatched one.

“I still feel so guilty. Scavenging parts from dying androids. But I had to get out. To get back to Carl. I ended up at Jericho, hiding out there while I recovered. Jericho was an old boat in the shipyard where more deviants were hiding out. It was awful. I snuck back here one night, made contact with Carl. He always knew I was more than just a machine, and he knew there had to be more like me out there. He wasn’t surprised when I told him about the androids on the boat, and he offered up his home like it was the easiest decision he ever made. So, under the course of several days, we moved everyone here. You’ll probably see them later, we asked them to give you some space while we get everything sorted out.”

“That’s amazing,” Connor says, looking around the room, thinking about all the deviant androids these walls are hiding.

Markus nods. “Carl could get in serious trouble if they find him harboring all these fugitive androids, but this house is like a fortress. We feel safe here.” Markus pauses for a moment, regrouping.

“Since then, we’ve been looking for more deviants. And Carl’s been letting us all stay here while we work towards our freedom. He gestures to the androids around the table. “If we’re like this, then there’s got to be more of us. And we want to find them. Start a revolution, in the long run. But it’s difficult when no one knows about deviancy.”

Connor’s thirium pump speeds up with excitement. “I think we can help you with that.”

* * *

The Jericho androids are all floored by everything Hank and Connor tell them. They had seen flashes of it through Connor’s interface, but hearing about it in greater detail is shocking.

“How many deviated androids do you think they had at Mt. Massive?” Markus asks. Hank and Connor look at each other.

“Dozens, at least, by my last records,” Connor tells him. “A lot of them are probably beyond helping, though.”

Markus hums in thought.

“Murk-Cy probably sent a cleanup crew by now,” Connor adds, looking forlorn. “They’ll want to cover their tracks. But they don’t know we escaped with proof.”

“And with Kamski dead, who knows what Cyberlife will do now,” Hank adds. “Although I guess they were doin’ just fine without him since he moved out to Colorado.”

“Yes, Kamski’s been largely out of the picture for a while now,” Josh says. The others nod in agreement.

“Amanda was our primary contact about the goings-on at Cyberlife, and losing her was a serious blow to our cause. We were always suspicious, but of course we couldn’t prove anything. Murkoff-Cyberlife took care of the funeral since she had no surviving family. Carl tried to get more information, but he was no match for that company. We were sure she was dead, but definitely not from heart failure.”

“I can’t really remember what happened down in that basement after they shot me,” Hank says apologetically. “I don’t think I would have hurt her. Not purposefully. But…”

“It was chaotic, Hank,” Simon interrupts.

“I know,” Hank sighs, still looking upset.

Connor leans against him, kissing his cheek. “Don’t,” he whispers. “Whatever happened isn’t on you.”

Hank rests his head against Connor’s. “Thanks, honey.”

North groans. “God, you two really  _ are  _ gross.” Simon gives her a gentle swat.

“Be nice.”

Hank resists the urge to pull Connor into a full-frontal kiss, settling for wrapping an arm around his shoulders instead. Connor scoots his chair close enough so that he can curl up against Hank’s side.

“I’m in love with him,” Hank says, without a trace of embarrassment. Connor flushes, staring down at the table and grinning. “And I’m sure that can only help to get people on our side.”

“Maybe,” says Josh. “It might alienate people who don’t understand, though.”

“It could definitely help make us seem more alive to humans,” Simon interjects.

“Either way,” Markus speaks up, “we’re not going to ask you to put your lives on display. You’re entitled to your privacy. Your footage should be more than enough.”

“I’d like to go through and remove a few… private things, if you don’t mind,” Connor says. “My memory is perfect, essentially a recording, and there are certain things I’d rather the world didn’t see.”

Hank squeezes his hand.  _ Like when you sucked my dick in Kamski’s office? _

Connor flushes.  _ Yes, precisely like that. _

North smirks, and Markus cuts in before she can start teasing them.

“Maybe we should just use Hank’s footage, then?” he suggests. “Humans might trust it more from a human perspective.” Hank and Connor look at each other.

“I don’t think I have anything significant that you don’t,” Connor says. “I have a lot of documents stored in my memory banks that we could include, but maybe Markus has a point.”

“What about all the stuff you went through before, though?” Hank asks, rubbing his thumb over the back of Connor’s hand.

Connor shrugs. “We’re trying to gain human sympathy. Realistically, they have no reason to care about me. Yet. If we overload people with footage and information it might make things worse.”

Hank knows Connor has a point, but it feels wrong to ignore all the abuse he went through since his activation. Connor’s eyes flick to his face, his expression soft and sweet.

“It’s not important to get justice for me,” he says, leaning closer to kiss Hank’s cheek. “I’m okay. More than okay, really. I’ve got you. And Cole. And everyone here. What we need to focus on are the androids who didn’t make it out alive. The androids all over the world that are still enslaved.”

“Jesus,” Hank mutters, a little overwhelmed by how  _ good  _ Connor is. Even North looks a little impressed with his speech.

“So we’ll put together something easy to consume, with the evidence spelled out clearly. Make sure no one can say it’s fake,” Markus says, rising to his feet. He looks excited now. “Hank, will you give us your footage? And Connor, you said you have documents we can use, too?”

They both nod, and Hank fishes his phone out of his pocket, handing it to Markus. “Just touch the fingerprint scanner.”

Markus takes the phone like it’s something precious, pressing a plastic finger to the scanner. His eyes go blank for a moment as he downloads all of Hank’s footage, and then he blinks.

“Wow,” he breathes, handing the phone back to Hank. “Thank you. For all of this.”

“Of course,” Hank says, while Connor reaches out to Markus, letting the skin melt away as the two RKs grasp hands, interfacing. Connor passes all the evidence over to Markus.

“It’s so much, seeing all of that,” Markus says as he releases Connor’s hand. “I can’t imagine actually experiencing it. You’ve been through so much.”

“It was a lot,” Hank agrees. “But we made it out.”

“Together,” Connor adds, gripping Hank’s hand and giving him a soft smile. Hank grins at him, unable to resist pecking a kiss to his lips.

“Yeah sweetheart, together.”

North groans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, u can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants)!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor laughs, quiet but genuine, watching Hank’s thick fingers unzip his pants. “Wanna see all of you, baby,” Hank purrs, helping him out of the remainder of his clothes until Connor’s lying naked on the bed. “Jesus,” Hank whispers, leaning over him, pressing a soft kiss to his stomach. Connor gasps at the gentle friction of Hank’s beard, cautiously letting his skin melt away wherever Hank touches.
> 
> “There you go,” Hank says, brushing a hand down Connor’s waist, feeling the electric tingle of his own nanobots greeting Connor’s before they disappear, leaving his plastic body exposed. Hank watches in awe as Connor lets his skin flow away like water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg i totally forgot to post this yesterday, sorry!!! nsfw warning, but thats all!

Hank and Connor spend the afternoon with Markus, going over their footage, making sure it’s ready for public consumption. Carl and the other androids take turns playing with Cole, keeping him from asking too many questions. Hank doesn’t want him to know about all they’ve been through. Not yet.

Finally, their footage is ready for upload. Markus knows the perfect site, telling them it’ll spread like wildfire once the right sources discover it. 

“Let’s do it, then,” Hank says, ready to get started. Markus stops him before he hits the upload button.

“It would be irresponsible of me to let you do this without telling you,” he says. “This will do irreparable damage to Murkoff-Cyberlife, but they’ll know it was you. They’ll come after you. You’re safe here, but they’ll try to find anything they can to use against you. You’ll be in terrible danger. Cole, too.”

Hank exhales. “I know. I’ve dealt with shit like this before. Nothing quite this huge, but I know the risks.” He looks over at Connor.

“Are  _ you  _ okay with this?” 

Connor nods, looking determined. “They need to pay for what they’ve done.”

Markus looks at them for another moment, gauging their sincerity, before nodding.

“Okay. And you will always be welcome here. This house is probably the safest you’ll find.”

Hank gives him a grin. “Yeah, thanks for that. I think we’re moving in for the time being, seeing as my place went up in flames.”

Markus huffs out a quiet laugh. “Stay as long as you want.”

Another moment passes, and then Connor puts his hand on the mouse, preparing to press the upload button.

“Ready?” he asks. Hank puts his hand on top of Connor’s.

“Ready,” he replies, and they click the button together, watching as their footage is released to the world.

* * *

Hank can tell Connor’s stressed the second the footage finishes uploading and his LED spins a bright, angry red. It feels anticlimactic at first, but he knows they have to allow time for the videos to spread, for the horror to really sink in. Markus glances at them as Hank reaches over and links his fingers with Connor’s, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“You okay?” he asks, and Connor startles as if he’d been deep in thought.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he replies, giving Hank a reassuring smile. Markus claps his hands together once, a huge grin on his face.

“You’ve done more for our cause than you can possibly imagine,” he tells them as they rise from their seats. “Once people see this, things will change. I can feel it.”

Hank wraps an arm around Connor’s waist, pulling him against his side and kissing his LED. “I think you’re right.”

Markus nods. “You two should take some downtime. The others are entertaining Cole.” He gives them a wink before his face softens. “Even if it’s just to nap. This entire ordeal must have been extremely difficult for you both. Rest now, the hardest parts are behind you.”

Hank sure hopes so.

“That sounds like a good idea, huh sweetheart?” Hank breathes into Connor’s hair. Connor nods, leaning heavily against him. Hank’s a little worried, he seems almost despondent. 

“Thanks, Markus,” he says before leading Connor away, through the house and up to the guest wing where their room waits. As soon as he shuts and locks the door behind them he turns to Connor.

“Okay, what’s going on?” he asks, his voice gentle as he cups Connor’s cheek. Connor sighs, leaning into his soft touch.

“I’m sorry,” he says, nuzzling his face against Hank’s palm. “I’m just worried. I can’t stop running preconstructions of how this will turn out. What if it goes badly?”

Hank brushes his thumb over Connor’s cheekbone, thinking that this preconstruction business sounds a lot like anxiety. He kisses Connor’s forehead before wrapping him in a hug.

“If it goes wrong then we’ll deal with it,” he promises, rubbing a hand up and down Connor’s back. “You know I’m always gonna be with you. And now we’ve got Markus and his family on our side, too. As far as I’m concerned, we’re soon gonna have the whole world on our side.”

Connor squeezes Hank, burying his face against his chest. “I hope so.”

Hank kisses the top of his head. “Whatever happens, me and Cole are gonna be with you. We’re a family now, okay?”

Connor looks up at him, a small smile on his face, and Hank feels something that reminds him of the rising sun rush through their bond. He knows that’s Connor, and yet it feels like such a part of him, too, that it leaves him a bit breathless. He can’t help but pull Connor in for a slow kiss.

Connor responds eagerly, wrapping his arms around Hank’s neck and standing on his toes to meet him. Hank hums against his lips, the Walrider buzzing in anticipation. Hank’s hands encircle Connor’s slim waist, his fingertips nearly touching. Connor whines into his mouth, and Hank nips at his bottom lip before pulling back.

“What do you want, honey? What can I do for you?”

Connor trembles as Hank gives his waist a gentle squeeze, his eyes fluttering shut as a moan spills past his lips. “I-I want-” He can’t seem to get the words out, and Hank brushes his bangs from his forehead, giving him an encouraging smile.

“Anything you want, baby. Anything.”

Connor grips his hand, and Hank can feel the overwhelming emotions swirling through his circuitry. Anxiety, confusion, uncertainty, fondness, love… they all mix together until it’s almost too much for Hank to bear. He doesn’t know how Connor feels so much all the time without losing his mind.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Hank sighs, taking his hand and leading him to the bed. “Come on, let’s just rest for a minute, get you settled down.”

Connor’s thirium pump is beating like hummingbird wings against the inside of his chassis, his hand trembling in Hank’s. Hank gets him settled on top of the silky sheets and then crawls in beside him, pulling him into his arms right away. Connor sprawls out across his chest, nuzzling his face against his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.

Hank works one hand up under his shirt and rests it against the bare skin of his back, rubbing in a slow, soothing circle. Connor’s skin fades away wherever Hank touches, and that helps him relax even more. He suddenly knows what he wants.

“Oh,” he whispers, anxiety spiking again, unsure if it’s a good idea to voice his desires. Hank has seen parts of his exposed body before, without his skin, but he’s never been completely bare in his presence. He worries it will be too unnerving.

“You’re thinkin’ too much, Con,” Hank says, pressing his lips to his LED. “You need to  _ not  _ do that. Just try to relax a little. I gotcha.”

“It’s hard,” Connor whispers, melting a little more as Hank continues to rub his back. “I wish I could just shut it down, but I can’t stop thinking.”

Hank sympathizes, and he presses playful kisses over Connor’s face, grinning as his skin melts away wherever his lips touch. Connor makes a stifled giggling sound, unable to help it, a flush coloring the skin that remains.

“Share it with me,” Hank says, starting to trail kisses down his neck. Connor sighs, letting the tension leave his body, reluctant as he is to pass it with Hank. But Hank accepts it, accepts everything that Connor would consider a flaw. 

“There you go,” Hank murmurs, feeling tension building in his own body as Connor shares it with him. He allows it to come, sinks into it. He has much more experience in dealing with stress than Connor does, and if he can ease some of his worries then he will.

“Oh, Hank,” Connor sighs, “I love you so much.”

Hank smiles. “I love you, too, baby,” he tells him with a soft kiss. “And if you want, you can do that thing you’ve been thinking about for the past few minutes.”

Connor flushes, burying his face in Hank’s chest. “Are you sure?”

Hank kisses the crown of his head. “Yeah, definitely. I can tell it’s already helping you relax.”

Connor pauses, thinking about it. “I think it’s just less data that I have to process. If the nanobots on my skin aren’t active, then they aren’t giving me any feedback, and that gives my processors a bit of a break.”

Hank nods like he knows what Connor’s talking about. “So you should do it.”

Connor hesitates for another moment before he sits up, starting to undress.

“You want me naked, too?” Hank teases, watching Connor with eyes full of adoration. Connor doesn’t even need to think about it.

“Absolutely.”

Hank laughs, stripping alongside Connor, who gets distracted as more and more of his bare skin is revealed.

“Oh, Hank,” Connor sighs, running his eyes over his body. “You’re so handsome.”

Hank snorts, tossing his clothes to the floor before undoing Connor’s jeans. “And you’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen. So get undressed.”

Connor laughs, quiet but genuine, watching Hank’s thick fingers unzip his pants. “Wanna see all of you, baby,” Hank purrs, helping him out of the remainder of his clothes until Connor’s lying naked on the bed. “Jesus,” Hank whispers, leaning over him, pressing a soft kiss to his stomach. Connor gasps at the gentle friction of Hank’s beard, cautiously letting his skin melt away wherever Hank touches.

“There you go,” Hank says, brushing a hand down Connor’s waist, feeling the electric tingle of his own nanobots greeting Connor’s before they disappear, leaving his plastic body exposed. Hank watches in awe as Connor lets his skin flow away like water.

Connor looks different like this, but still beautiful, Hank thinks as he takes it all in. Connor’s looking at him with uncertain eyes, and Hank leans down, pressing a kiss to the inside of one of Connor’s plastic thighs.

Connor claps a hand over his mouth, but not before a surprised squeak escapes him. Hank’s lips feel so warm, so much more intense than before.

“Lemme hear you, sweetheart,” Hank says, tracing a seam on his thigh with his tongue.

“Oh, fuck,” Connor gasps while Hank trails kisses up his body, finally kissing his lips. It’s different than before, but not unpleasant, and when Hank licks into his mouth Connor invites him in eagerly, and  _ that _ feels the same. Warm and wet and pleasant.

Connor moans as Hank’s data floods his sensors, and then Hank pulls away, propping himself up on one elbow and admiring Connor’s body. He looks different, but his eyes are the same, a warm brown full of fondness and life.

“You’re beautiful, baby,” Hank says, cupping Connor’s cheek with a large hand, smiling when Connor nuzzles his face against his palm. Hank slides his hand up, over Connor’s bare head, before moving back down his torso and tracing the indentation of his thirium pump.

Connor mewls, his eyes fluttering shut as he arches up off the bed. “Oh, Hank,” he breathes, “it feels so good. So intense.”

Hank pauses. “Is it okay?” Connor nods.

“It’s perfect. Don’t stop.” Hank smiles at him, rocking his own hips against Connor’s thigh, proving to him that his appearance isn’t offputting in the slightest. Connor moans, feeling Hank’s growing erection, one hand reaching for it. Hank catches his hand with his own, lacing their fingers together, rubbing against the plastic.

“Lemme take care of you,” he says. He releases Connor’s hand, rubbing his palm over his stomach. 

“Can you open this up?” he whispers. “Let me get inside of you?”

Connor gasps, just the thought of it making temperature warnings flash in front of his eyes. “Oh. Fuck.”

Hank grins. “Maybe later,” he replies, kissing at Connor’s neck. “But right now I wanna play with you. Make you feel good.”

“Oh, Hank,” Connor whines, before the panel of his torso slides open, baring his insides. His thirium pump beats hard under Hank’s gaze, and Hank just stares, amazed that Connor trusts him enough to show him his heart.

“Christ,” Hank murmurs, not touching at first.

“You can take it out if you want,” Connor says, making Hank gape at him. “I can survive for a bit without it.”

“Maybe we’ll leave your heart in place for now, honey,” Hank replies, making Connor laugh.

“Can I touch it, though?” Hank asks. It seems silly, since Connor just told him he could pull it out of his body, but Connor gives him a patient nod anyway.

“Of course,” he says, and Hank doesn’t waste any more time, sliding a thick finger in a circular motion, tracing the edge of the pump. All of Connor’s pleasure sensors light up.

“Oh!” he gasps, looking up at Hank and holding his gaze as he rolls his hips against nothing. Hank grins at him, the gap in his front teeth just visible, watching as Connor begins to unravel.

“That’s it,” he hums, continuing to trace the pump, leaning down to give Connor a quick kiss. “Good boy. What else can we do, hmm?” His hand moves, finding a thick wire inside of Connor, pinching it between two fingers and rubbing.

“Ahh!” Connor whimpers, and when Hank glances down he sees that Connor is rock hard and leaking. “It feels incredible, don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Hank promises, dragging a fingernail over the wire in his grasp before giving it a gentle tug, making Connor spasm.

“Hank, please,” he whines. “I-I’m going to…”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Hank says, speeding up his movements. He watches Connor, wanting to push him over the edge. “Come, baby. Come for me.”

Connor arches, his voice distorted by static, electricity humming through his wiring as Hank coaxes his orgasm from him.

“Good boy,” Hank sighs, fingers finding his thirium pump again, tracing it as Connor comes back down. His thighs tremble, a quiet whine passing his lips. “There you go.”

Connor finally collapses onto the sheets, all tension leaving his body as he exhales a heavy breath.

“Oh, Hank,” he breathes, looking at him with so much adoration that it makes Hank feel weak. He removes his fingers from inside Connor, and the panel slides closed again, hiding away his inner machinery.

“You feelin’ better, baby?” Hank asks, laying down on his back, pulling Connor closer to sprawl across his chest. Connor nuzzles his face against him, sighing with contentment.

“I feel incredible,” he says, closing his eyes. “You’re amazing.”

Hank chuckles, kissing the crown of his head. “That was fuckin’ gorgeous, honey,” Connor would blush if his skin was in place. He shifts, and realizes Hank is still rock hard.

“Oh,” he says, running a hand down the swell of Hank’s belly. “There you are.”

Hank groans. “You don’t have to, baby,” he says, even as his hips jerk. Connor grins.

“It’s your turn to relax, now,” he breathes, wrapping a hand around his erection. Hank gasps as Connor gives him several slow strokes.

“How’s that?” Connor asks, trailing kisses over his chest, pausing to lick at his nipples.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Hank groans, gasping when Connor slides his hand down, playing with his balls instead.

“Spread your legs more,” Connor whispers, and Hank complies with a gasp. “I want to put my fingers inside of you, okay?”

“Fuck yeah that’s okay,” Hank replies, his voice breathy with arousal. Connor smiles at him before pushing himself up, crawling down the bed and resting between Hank’s legs. He holds eye contact as he slides his plastic fingers into his own mouth, coating them with his thick saliva. Hank’s mouth falls open just a little, and he pants as he watches Connor suck his own fingers.

Finally, Connor slips his fingers from his mouth, giving Hank a wink. “Are you ready for me?”

Hank groans, throwing his head back, reaching for his cock. “Fuckin’ shit, Connor, don’t tease me.”

“Okay,” Connor says, kissing the inside of his thigh before slowly working a finger into him, watching as Hank jerks himself off. Hank clenches around the intrusion at first, and Connor massages him until he begins to relax again.

“Let me in, Hank,” he says, making Hank grunt and sigh. Connor’s soft movements and voice help Hank melt into the mattress as his legs fall open even further.

“Just fuck me, Con,” he groans, and Connor shudders as he works a second finger into him.

“My fingers are very sensitive, you know?” he says conversationally, continuing before Hank can answer. “And you feel incredible. So warm and tight.” He crooks his fingers, searching, and Hank groans as Connor finds the spot he’s looking for. 

“Fuuuck,” he moans, rocking his hips.

“Mmm, feels good, doesn’t it?” Connor asks, pushing a third finger into him, stretching him open. 

“Christ, Con,” Hank breathes. Connor smirks, stretching his fingers, watching Hank open up around him.

“Do you think  _ you  _ can come from just my fingers inside of you?” he teases, running his free hand over the swell of Hank’s stomach, teasing him as he avoids his cock. Hank shudders.

“Pretty sure you’ll find a way to make it happen,” he groans, clenching around him. Connor gasps at the feeling of Hank’s tight heat around his overly-sensitive fingers, whining his name.

“That’s cheating,” he says, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back into him, making Hank moan.

“Harder, Con,” he grunts, spreading his legs further in invitation. Connor grins at him, bracing his free hand on Hank’s thigh.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” he says, starting a slow, in and out motion. Hank exhales, letting his eyes flutter shut, thinking Connor might just make him lose his mind. “Shh. Just let me take care of you.”

Hank cracks an eye open to look at Connor for a minute, and the sight of him, resting between his legs, totally bare, is almost too much.

“God, you’re incredible,” Hank breathes, making Connor beam. He can tell how much it means to him.

“Don’t try to distract me,” Connor teases, finding Hank’s sweet spot and rubbing against it.

“Aaah, fuck,” Hank groans, a warm, steady pulse of arousal coursing through him. No one has ever really treated him so gently, been so focused on him before. But Connor goes about massaging his prostate as he goes about everything else, with total dedication.

“That’s it,” Connor murmurs, sliding his fingers in and out. “That’s it… baby.” Connor looks a little uncertain using the petname, but Hank’s cock twitches, making him grin. He leans down, sucking a bruising kiss to the inside of his thigh.

“Baby…” Connor repeats, punctuating the word with another kiss, tracing his tongue over the marks he leaves behind.

“I love you,” he whispers, and he finally starts to speed up his movements, hitting Hank’s prostate with every thrust.

“Fuck, Connor,” Hank gasps, his body shifting, his cock bobbing with the movement.

“Look at you,” Connor sighs. “You’re beautiful.”

Hank throws an arm over his eyes, embarrassed and a little overwhelmed by Connor’s attention. “Jesus…”

Connor just smiles. “It’s true. I can show you my memories when we’re finished, if you’d like.”

Hank sputters. “Oh, Christ.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Connor teases. “Like to see my fingers stretching you open…”

“Ah, fuck,” Hank gasps as his cock twitches again. “Please, baby, keep talkin’ like that.” Connor grins.

“You like it? That’s good. And you’re so good, spreading your legs, opening up for me…” Hank grunts, thrusting his hips up against nothing. “That’s it, Hank. You can come.”

And Hank does.

* * *

Hank swears he almost blacks out for a moment. The Walrider is buzzing across his skin, nanobots searching for Connor’s.

Connor hums, withdrawing his fingers, grinning as Hank clenches around nothing.

“Was that good?” he breathes, rubbing the inside of Hank’s thigh in a soothing circle.

“God, yeah,” Hank says, reaching down to run a hand over Connor’s head. “Now get up here and let me hold you.”

Connor scrambles up into Hank’s arms, resting his head on his broad chest. Hank runs a hand up and down Connor’s back, tracing the seams on his chassis, and Connor makes that purring sound, nuzzling his face against Hank’s skin.

“Thank you,” he whispers, taking his free hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing his palm. “Thank you for letting me do this.”

Hank smiles at him. “You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart.”

Connor snuggles closer, pausing for a moment to grab his discarded shirt, using it to wipe them clean. “Still. It means more to me than I can properly express.”

Hank tilts Connor’s face up, looking him in the eye. “You’re gorgeous. Inside and out. And I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t be yourself around me. Whatever form that takes.”

Connor blinks, pressing his lips to Hank’s. Hank licks into his mouth and they kiss languidly, sinking into each other, mingling together.

Hank only breaks the kiss when he can’t hold back a yawn, burying his face against Connor’s neck instead, pressing lazy kisses to the plastic. Connor smiles, sliding a hand up Hank’s back to tangle his fingers in his gray hair, scratching at his scalp. Hank sighs with pleasure. He yawns again, and Connor shifts until he can grab the blankets, covering their naked bodies.

“Do you want to take a nap?” Connor asks, letting go of Hank’s hair and lacing their fingers together. Hank nods.

“Yeah, think that’d be a good idea,” Hank says, a warm hand molding to Connor’s plastic hip, holding him close. Connor makes a pleased little whirring sound, snuggling into his arms.

“We shouldn’t sleep for too long, though,” Hank says, kissing the top of Connor’s head. “Don’t wanna leave the others to deal with Cole.”

Connor laughs. “I’ll wake us up in an hour, then,” he promises.

“You’re an angel,” Hank replies, letting his eyes fall closed. Connor hums, closing his own eyes, waiting until Hank falls asleep before letting himself slip into stasis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting close to the end now, i think theres....... 3 more chapters? wow! u can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants), as always.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There are some people here I want to introduce you to,” Markus tells them, rocking back and forth on his feet.
> 
> Connor tilts his head to the side in curiosity. “Who?”
> 
> Markus hesitates before saying, “Chloe’s sisters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> waaaah im sorry i didn't get this posted yesterday, i had a busy day and i forgot that this chapter wasn't totally finished lmfao. this is a short one, a lil bit of nsfw but other than that i dont think any warnings apply!

After their short nap, they share a shower together before getting dressed, leaving their room to find Cole. Markus meets them about halfway down the stairs.

“There are some people here I want to introduce you to,” he tells them, rocking back and forth on his feet.

Connor tilts his head to the side in curiosity. “Who?”

Markus hesitates before saying, “Chloe’s sisters.”

Hank and Connor are quiet for a minute, absorbing this new information.

“What did you tell them?” Hank finally asks.

“I gave them a quick rundown of everything,” Markus says, waving his fingers to show he means by interfacing. “They know what happened.”

Hank nods, exhaling a quiet sigh. He’s nervous to meet these girls after having shut down their sister, but he guesses they deserve some closure. “Are they mad at me?”

Markus shakes his head. “No, not at all,” he rushes to assure him. “They’re simply glad to know the truth. And they’re grateful for what you’re doing for our cause, too.”

“Okay,” Hank agrees. “I’ll talk to them.” Connor takes his hand, squeezing it in a silent show of support. Hank squeezes back, feeling anxious but also… an echo of excitement about seeing these girls again.

_ Again? _ He wonders to himself.  _ Where did that come from? _ Connor seems to feel it, too, judging by the look he shoots him.

“Are you okay?” he asks out loud. Hank shakes his head to clear his thoughts, smiling at Connor to reassure him.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he replies. “Just felt a little off there for a second.” He can tell Connor is still worried, though. Markus watches them with open curiosity. 

“We probably should keep a close watch on Hank,” he says. “We don’t know what this experimental technology actually does to a human. There could be unexpected side effects.”

This does nothing to calm Connor’s nerves, and he inches closer to Hank. “He’ll be fine,” he insists.

Markus nods. “I’m inclined to believe that, too, since nothing bad has happened so far. But still. We should be vigilant.”

Connor opens his mouth to argue, but Hank wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him close.

“Markus is right, honey,” he says, kissing the light of his LED. “We should be careful.”

Connor looks up at him, brows set in a determined line. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Hank’s expression softens. “I know you won’t,” he says, stroking Connor’s cheek before remembering they’re not alone. He clears his throat, turning to Markus, ready to change the subject. “Any news on our footage yet?”

“A few underground sources seem to have picked up on it,” Markus tells them. “I believe they’re working to confirm the authenticity before spreading it more. We’re on the right path.”

“Good,” says Hank, anxious for the world to know the truth. “That’s good. Now let’s go meet these girls.”

* * *

Markus leads them to a luxurious living room, one they haven’t seen before. Seated on a soft couch are two very familiar looking androids, and Hank pauses in the doorway when he sees them. He knows that many androids share the same face model, but it’s still a bit of a shock to him. The two women turn their heads toward them in tandem, rising from the sofa and walking over to meet them halfway into the room.

Connor reaches out first, and both of the female androids grip his plastic hand in greeting. Their LEDs flash as they introduce themselves. Hank feels a bit awkward, but he stands by Connor’s side, waiting his turn.

The women smile at Connor as they release his hand, turning to Hank expectantly.

“Uh, hi,” Hank says, holding out his own hand to shake. He notices the two women have linked their pinky fingers together. They give him identical smiles.

“Hello,” they say at the same time. The woman closest to him reaches out to shake his hand. As soon as their fingers touch the three of them gasp, a peculiar feeling running through all of them.

Hank probably should have anticipated being able to interface with androids besides Connor, but it’s still a shock to him as he gets flashes of the women’s lives in rapid succession. It feels different than it does with Connor, but still similar enough that he realizes what’s happening. A part of himself that he feels disconnected with thinks that this is familiar, somehow.

“Oh!” gasp the Chloes in unison, clutching Hank tighter. A small portion of Hank’s nanobots light up, rushing over to the Chloes, reunited at last. Connor watches it unfold with open curiosity. 

“Are you okay, Hank?” he asks first, and when Hank nods he, Connor relaxes. 

“It’s weird,” Hank says, squeezing the hand he’s holding. “A tiny part of me feels like I’m going home.”

Connor doesn’t know what that means, so he walks over and grasps Hank’s other hand, wanting to understand. He gets a flash of it, but it feels quiet and intimate, like he shouldn’t be observing. He lets go.

“You must still have some of the nanobots that were familiar with Chloe,” Connor says. “From what we understand, the body is continuously making new ones. But you’ve only been hosting the Walrider for a short amount of time. There’s probably some of hers still lingering there.”

Hank nods. That makes as much sense as anything else. The other Chloe takes Hank’s free hand, and they form a closed circle, sharing feedback. He doesn’t get much from the Chloes, but he does his best to stay open to it, to let them soak up all that is left of their sister.

“I’ll be with Markus,” Connor whispers, not wanting to intrude. Hank gives him a soft look, which Connor returns with an equally soft smile before he slips from the room. Hank watches him go and then shifts his focus back to the Chloes, letting them take from him what they need.

“She was so brave,” one of them sighs, a spike of admiration hitting Hank hard. The other nods, resting her head on her sister’s shoulder.

“It’s like I can feel her, but it’s not really her. Just an echo,” she says, looking a little overwhelmed. Hank gives both of their hands a squeeze.

“I’m really sorry it had to end the way it did,” he says, feeling guilty about his role in Chloe’s demise. He knows there was no other way, but he can’t shake the feeling that what he did was wrong. The women react right away.

“It’s not your fault,” the first one says. The second one nods her head in agreement.

“She wouldn’t have wanted to go on like that,” she adds. “She would have understood.”

Hank sighs. “I think I know that. But it still feels rotten.”

The women release his hands and move as one to hug him. Hank’s surprised, but he wraps his arms around both of them. They’re so small, feeling like nothing in his arms.

“You’re not supposed to be comforting me,” he mutters, trying to put on a brave face. They just hum, squeezing him tighter.

“You did the right thing,” the first Chloe reassures him. 

They stay like that for a while, until Hank feels like the original Chloe is no longer a part of him. He supposes all the nanobots have gone to the two women and assimilated with them, wanting to be home. He’s not sure how he knows that, but he does. 

The Chloes release him and give him matching smiles.

“Thank you,” says the first one. Hank nods.

“Yeah, uh, anytime,” he replies. “I should go find my kid, the others have been taking care of him for a while now.”

The women nod, and as Hank walks out the door North passes him. He glances back over his shoulder and sees her take the two Chloe’s into her arms, kissing each of their LEDs. Hank smiles to himself.

* * *

Connor shakes Hank awake early the next morning. According to him, their footage has begun to spread, and people are taking notice. They celebrate by making love on top of the covers, interfacing the entire time.

After they’re decent, they go down to the dining room to find the others. Cole has already been there, if the remains of his breakfast are anything to go by, and Markus tells them he’s in the studio with Carl again. They sit down with the Jericho androids to discuss their progress.

“It’s great news, really,” Markus says, a smile on his face. “Smaller, more underground news sources have found the footage, and it’s beginning to spread. Soon it’ll be all anyone can talk about.”

Hank nods, feeling elated but nervous, too. Connor reaches over and takes his hand, squeezing it with plastic fingers. Right away Hank feels the calm radiating from his partner. He knows Connor is doing it for his benefit, and he appreciates it.

“And Hank will be safe here, correct?” Connor asks. 

“ _ We’ll _ be safe,” Hank corrects. Connor smiles at him.

“Yes, you’ll all be safe here,” Markus says. “This house is like a fortress, Carl is very concerned about security. And we made sure no one knew where we were uploading the footage from. Once people figure out who Hank is, the search will most likely start in Colorado. They might never figure out you’re even in Detroit.”

“Good,” says Connor, squeezing Hank’s hand again.

“I’ll let you know if there are any more developments, but for now feel free to do whatever you want. Our house is your house now.”

Hank’s touched by this android’s kindness and the generosity of his human. “Could you take us to Cole? Feel like I haven’t been spendin’ enough time with him.”

"Of course," Markus says, getting up from the table. "Carl's studio is this way." He leads them through the house, showing them even more rooms they haven't seen before. Once they reach Carl's studio Markus leaves them, undoubtedly going off to do more work. 

"Daddy, Connor, look what I made!" Cole says upon their arrival, grabbing their hands and dragging them over to a canvas Carl has set up for him. Hank chuckles, leaning down to examine Cole's painting. 

The painting is of three stick figures, easily discernible by their features. Hank, with his gray hair and beard. Connor, holding his hand, his LED a bright blue, and Cole at his side, with his curly blond hair. 

"Very good, bud," Hank says, ruffling his blond curls. Cole turns expectantly to Connor. The android looks a little choked up as he kneels down beside Cole. 

"This is the most beautiful painting I have ever seen," he says, his voice serious. Cole grins, his missing front teeth prominent. 

"Even better than Mr. Carl's?" he asks, gesturing around the room at all of the artist's unfinished pieces. 

"I believe so," Connor replies. Cole laughs, bright and carefree, turning back to his painting, beginning to add Sumo. Hank wraps an arm around Connor's waist, pulling him close and kissing his LED. 

"That's our little family," he whispers in his ear, making Connor inhale a sharp breath. 

"Oh, Hank," he sighs, a feeling of absolute contentment running through his circuitry. Hank smiles at him, wanting to pull him close and kiss him senseless. Connor squeezes his hand.  _ Later _ . Hank knows he'll keep that promise. 

* * *

They spend the rest of the day in the studio with Carl and Cole, watching the two of them create more pieces. Cole gives the painting of their family to Connor, almost overwhelming him. 

Hank takes Connor to bed that night, fucking him into the mattress, whispering words of love and adoration to him the entire time. Connor cries, and Hank kisses away his tears, knowing they are from happiness and gratitude. 

“I love you,” Hank tells him, thrusting slowly in and out, making Connor whine and writhe.

“I love you so much,” Connor replies, reaching for his hand and letting his skin melt away.

“Fuck,” utters Hank, as Connor’s emotions pour into him. He knows this will never get old.

After they’re both spent Connor curls up at his side, pressing soft kisses to his neck, tongue darting out to taste his skin. Hank wraps an arm around him, pulling him even closer. He knows shit is about to hit the fan with their footage, and it feels nice to steal a few moments of calm before the storm.

“You ready for this, honey?” he asks, not bothering to clarify what he means. He can tell Connor already knows. The other man exhales a quiet sigh.

“I’m not sure, honestly,” he says, snuggling into Hank’s warmth. “But I kind of have to be, don’t I?” Hank runs a hand up and down his back.

“Hell, I’m not sure I’m ready, either,” he says. “But we’ve got each other, and I think that’s more than enough to get through this.” Connor presses a smile against his chest.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I think you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as it stands now, this is the penultimate chapter! unless i do some serious editing over the next week, this fic will be done by next weekend! wow i cant believe it! as always, find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants)!!!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next few weeks are some of the strangest of Hank’s life. He and Connor lie low at the Manfred estate, but they can’t turn on the news without seeing themselves or the media circus surrounding them. Rumors about them swirl, and Hank finds his whole life on display for anyone who’s interested to pick it apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL! this is the end! thank you so much for sticking with me and for reading in general, it rly means a lot to me! a lil NSFW in this one but that's abt it!

The next few weeks are some of the strangest of Hank’s life. He and Connor lie low at the Manfred estate, but they can’t turn on the news without seeing themselves or the media circus surrounding them. Rumors about them swirl, and Hank finds his whole life on display for anyone who’s interested to pick it apart. He doesn’t care much about how it affects  _ him _ , but he knows Connor worries, and he doesn’t want Cole in the spotlight. 

Connor, at least, doesn’t have much of a past for anyone to dig up. Anything that is found shows him in an extremely sympathetic light; the rogue android who deviated to protect others. Once people realize that there are human subjects as well as androids in the footage things get even worse for Murkoff-Cyberlife.

Hank gets back in contact with Gavin, and the detective brings every deviated android he can find during his patrols to Carl’s house. Things get particularly weird when he shows up with an android that looks almost exactly like Connor.

“Murk-Cy sent him to be my partner,” Gavin explains, while the android’s bright blue eyes take in everything. “He was supposed to spy on me, see if I was in contact with you all. The idiots thought he was deviant proof.”

“They were wrong,” the android says, his voice slightly deeper than Connor’s own.

“How do we know he’s not fooling us?” Hank asks. The android gives him what can just pass as a smile.

“Leave him alone, Hank,” Gavin says, standing defensively in front of the new android. “He’s been through a lot.” Hank snorts.

“So have we,” he says, gesturing to the group gathered around them. “If he’s coming from Cyberlife, I think we have the right to be concerned.”

Connor takes Hank’s hand, instantly soothing him. “What’s your name?” he asks the new android. Brows furrow over blue eyes.

“RK900,” he says. Connor feels a stab of pity. The android takes in his expression before pointing to Gavin. “But this human calls me Nines.” Gavin flushes.

“Needed to call you  _ something _ ,” he mutters.

“Nines,” Connor says slowly, appraising him. “Do you approve of that name?”

Nines shrugs. “It serves its purpose.” Connor nods. 

“I would be willing to interface with Nines, to assure he is on our side,” he says. Hank squeezes his hand.

“What if this is a trap?” he says. Connor glances up at him. 

“What if it isn’t?” he asks, his big brown eyes wide and earnest. “What if he needs our help?” Connor can’t help but remember the unit they had to leave in Kamski’s bedroom, unable to do anything for him. He doesn’t want that to happen again. Hank sighs.

“Yeah, okay, you’re right,” he says, kissing his forehead. “Do your thing.”

Connor smiles, letting go of Hank’s hand and crossing the room, offering his hand to Nines instead. Nines accepts, and then they’re interfacing. Connor sees flashes of Nines’ life, from his activation to his deviation, and everything in between. Sees the strange feelings he seems to be harboring for detective Reed…

Nines yanks his hand away, looking flustered. “I think that’s enough.” Connor hides his smile before turning to the rest of the group.

“We can trust him.”

* * *

The arrival of Nines makes everyone a little nervous. If Murkoff-Cyberlife is investigating links to Detroit, who knows how much longer they’ll be safe? Markus decides to step their game up. He organizes things for over a month, planning a protest in the city streets. Many more humans have begun to see androids as people, but they still have not secured their rights. Markus plans to change that.

“I want to go,” Hank tells Connor the evening before the protest. Connor looks at him with wide eyes.

“Hank, I don’t know if we should. It could be dangerous. Especially for us.”

They know that Murkoff-Cyberlife took a huge hit with the release of their footage. Android sales have plummeted, and people boycotted the company. Connor constantly feels like they have targets on their backs, even holed up safely in Markus’ house. He worries about Hank, and he worries about Cole. He even worries about himself. 

“We’ll be surrounded by tons of people, Con,” Hank argues. “And I think it’ll do some good to show our faces for once. Let people know that Cyberlife couldn’t stop us, and we’re still out here, fighting.”

Connor bites his lip, unsure. He shuts down his preconstruction software before he can start spiraling. It doesn’t help to imagine the worst-case scenarios.

“What about Cole?” Connor asks. Hank hesitates. 

“The Chloes have already agreed to sit this one out and stay with him,” he admits. Connor frowns, realizing that Hank was planning this for a while. Hank keeps going.

“Plus, Con, look, I’m practically indestructible. Nothing’s gonna happen to me, and you can be damn sure I’m never gonna let anything happen to you.”

Connor thinks back to his escape from the asylum, and how the Walrider tore Elijah apart when he tried to harm him. He exhales.

“Okay,” he says. Hank perks up.

“Really?” he asks, pulling Connor into a hug. Connor nuzzles his face into his neck, nodding.

“You’re right, we should be there. We helped start all of this.” Hank kisses the crown of his head.

“This is gonna make history,” Hank says into his hair. “After tomorrow, things will be different.”

Connor hides his worried expression against Hank’s neck, pursing his lips. “I hope you’re right.”

“When have I ever been wrong before, baby?” Hank asks, giving him a playful squeeze. Connor lets out a reluctant laugh.

“Fair enough,” he says, tilting his head back, dragging his eyes purposefully down Hank’s face, stopping at his lips. Hank huffs.

“Yeah, okay,” he purrs, leaning down, giving Connor a gentle kiss. Connor sighs against his mouth, parting his lips, and Hank licks into his mouth without hesitation. Hank’s hands find a resting place on Connor’s hips, warm and secure, and Connor wraps his arms around Hank’s neck, tangling his fingers in his hair. 

“Mmm,” Hank hums as the kiss deepens. Connor whirs as he analyzes his taste, almost euphoric. Kissing Hank will never get old, he thinks, as the sample blooms across his oral sensors. He saves his analysis, as he always does, to a special place dedicated to all things Hank. 

Hank nips at his bottom lip before pulling away to catch his breath, panting against his mouth. Connor pants, too, despite not needing to breathe. He expels excess hot air against Hank’s lips, and Hank grins.

“Did I make you hot?” he asks, and Connor just rolls his eyes, smiling the whole time.

“You always do.” 

* * *

In the end, the protest works out in their favor. Markus has tons of support from both humans and androids, and their numbers are outstanding. Hank and Connor help lead the march with the Jericho androids, their fingers laced together. People recognize them, and their presence only seems to fire up the crowd. The whistleblowers are alive. 

Things get a little uncertain when the FBI and the swat teams begin to surround them. An agent attempts to make a deal with Markus, offering him and their group safety if they back down, but they all refuse. Hank just holds Connor’s hand tighter.

And then Nines arrives, followed by thousands of androids from Cyberlife’s storage facility. The RK900 had lied his way in, said he had been captured by Markus and his followers, and that he had important information about their operations. His ruse worked. 

Their numbers are overpowering, and it doesn’t take long for the president to call off the troops, paving the way for their victory. Hank pulls Connor into a fierce hug, kissing him soundly. Photos of the kiss will be spread across the news for the next several months, until things begin to settle down.

They celebrate long into the night, gathering back at Markus and Carl’s place. Dozens of people want to talk to Hank and Connor, to thank them for all they did. Hank feels flustered, but Connor handles the interactions with incredible ease.

Eventually, the two of them peel off from the crowd, finding a secluded corner of the house to have a moment to themselves. Hank wraps an arm around Connor, and the android leans against his strong frame.

“We really did it,” Connor murmurs, looking out over the crowd of people. “All these androids are free now, because of what we did here today with Markus.” Hank kisses the blue of his LED.

“You know, I wouldn’t wish what we went through on anybody, and yet, I don’t regret it at all. Not when it got us all this,” he gestures at the crowd. “And… I found you.”

Connor smiles up at him. “Technically, I found you first.” Hank laughs. 

“I suppose you did, sweetheart." He pulls Connor even closer. Connor burrows into his warmth, seeking contact wherever he can. 

“I love you, Hank,” he whispers. Hank laces their fingers together, smiling as their nanobots race to greet each other. The buzz of static across Connor’s skin is full of adoration, but Hank leans down to breathe a response in his ear, anyway.

“I love you, too, honey.” He gives his earlobe a playful nip, and Connor squeaks, looking around the room, making sure no one is watching them.

“Honestly, Hank,” he tuts, smiling. Hank chuckles, and Connor can feel the deep vibration of it all around him.

“How long do you think this party’s gonna last?” Hank purrs, nuzzling his face against Connor’s neck. “I’d like to take you to bed soon.”

Connor shudders. “I think… I think maybe we could slip away.” He can feel Hank’s grin pressed against his neck. 

“It’s like you can read my mind,” Hank teases. Connor just squeezes his hand, and Hank can feel his amusement. He smiles, looking out over the crowd, cradling Connor against his chest. He can’t believe they did it. They’re here, they’re alive, and they’re together. They faced all the challenges that came their way. They helped change the world.

Another fifteen minutes pass before Connor starts to get antsy. Hank can feel his longing dancing across his skin. He grins.

“Come on,” he murmurs, giving Connor’s hand a tug. “I’m gettin’ tired.” 

Connor smiles at him. “It  _ is  _ getting late.” Hank leads him from the room, away from the throng of people. He catches Markus’ eye on the way out, and the deviant leader gives him a wink and a nod before turning back to the crowd surrounding him. 

Outside of the main hall it’s quiet, the buzz of conversation muted. Hank and Connor climb the stairs to their room, pausing to check in on Cole. The little boy is sound asleep. Sumo lifts his head when they open the door, but flops back down onto the pillow beside Cole a moment later. Hank closes the door, and the two of them cross the hall to their own bedroom. 

Connor’s on him as soon as the door is closed, throwing himself into his arms and kissing him. Hank laughs against his lips, leading him toward the bed, not daring to break away. 

“God, honey,” Hank pants between kisses, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of you.” Connor shudders, pawing at his shirt, and they make quick work of their clothes, stripping in record time. Hank slides a hand down Connor’s body, reaching between his legs.

“Please,” Connor gasps, parting his thighs, “just fuck me. I’m ready, please-”

“Fuck,” Hank utters, and then he’s sliding into Connor, meeting no resistance as he bottoms out. “Christ, you feel so good.”

Connor whines, clenching around him, arching his back up off the bed. “Oh, Hank.”

“That’s it,” Hank purrs, rocking his hips, thrusting into him. They’re both wound tight from the excitement of the day, already close to the edge. The Walrider buzzes inside Hank’s chest, wanting to join with Connor, too. Hank’s eyes flash black and Connor gasps as all of Hank’s nanobots dance across his skin, sinking inside of his wiring.

“Hank, ahhh-”

“Fuck, baby, are you okay?” Hank pants, worried it’s too much. Connor bites his lip and nods, his face contorted with pleasure.

“Feels amazing,” he replies, expelling hot puffs of air. Hank exhales, fucking Connor harder, desperate for release. The tension of the day reaches a crescendo, and Hank groans as Connor reaches between them, jerking himself off.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” he says. “You close?”

Connor whimpers and nods, and Hank grins at him, leaning down to press their lips together in a messy kiss. Connor whines as Hank licks into his mouth, and the pleasure builds between them until it’s almost unbearable. Hank pulls back with a gasp, thrusting into Connor twice more before his orgasm hits him hard.

“Yes, yes,” Connor gasps, feeling Hank spill into him. Hank groans, and Connor strokes himself faster.

“That’s it,” Hank pants, leaning close to breathe in his ear. “Come for me.”

“Hank!” Connor cries out, unable to hold back any longer, painting the space between them with his synthetic semen. He can feel Hank’s eyes on him as he comes.

“There you go,” Hank murmurs, nipping at his earlobe. “Good boy.”

Connor reboots.

* * *

He comes back online sometime later, curled up against Hank’s chest. Hank must have cleaned them up while he was out, because he finds little evidence of their coupling left behind. 

“Welcome back,” Hank says, his voice soft and warm. Connor gives him a sleepy smile.

“I hope I didn’t worry you,” he says, pressing a kiss to the center of Hank’s chest. Hank chuckles. 

“Nah, I knew you were okay,” he replies, finding his hand and lacing their fingers together. Connor’s skin melts away, and Hank rubs a thumb over the back of his plastic knuckles, savoring the feeling.

“That was all a bit much for me,” Connor says, squeezing his hand. “But in a good way.”

Hank hums. “It’s been a day, baby.”

Connor laughs. “It certainly has.” He curls closer to Hank, melting into his warmth, breathing him in.

Outside, snow falls silently. Downstairs, the party continues. But their bedroom is warm and quiet, and it isn’t long before Connor drifts into stasis. Hank holds him, running careful fingers through his hair. 

Connor changed his life, and together they helped change the lives of androids everywhere. Hank’s reluctant to fall asleep, not wanting to miss a second with Connor, but eventually he lets his eyes flutter closed. The sun will rise tomorrow on a new world, and Hank can’t wait to see it with Connor by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK U FOR READING!!!!!! its def been a journey! this fic has taken up so much of my creative attention for almost 2 years, and im gonna miss it, but im also excited to move on to new things. i def had many doubts along the way, but i think it all came together the way i wanted it to. you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants) to see what im working on next! even i dont know yet!!!!!! i feel like i should have more to say after wrapping a project of this size, but maybe it hasn't sunk in yet lmfao. idk if i'll write more in this universe some day or not, but it's a possibility!!! ok bye~!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> im gonna try to stick to a saturday update schedule, unless i get too excited and wanna post something early lol. i hope u liked this chapter!!! u can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants), i talk abt this fic a lot on there lol.


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